Night Terrors
by Tanya Reed
Summary: This is a Hallowe'en story. Warnings for language, violence, and minor adult situations. Something evil is about to awaken...and it wants CC. (Takes place in the 4th season.)
1. Chapter 1

"Maxwell, are you sure we should consider this play?" CC asked.

The play in question was so boring that she found her mind wandering as she read it. She couldn't count how many times she'd gone over the same page, losing interest halfway through.

"He's a rising playwright, CC. We've got to grab him before anyone else does."

CC glanced over at her boss. He was sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled. His glasses were on his face, making him look solemn and wise. She usually liked this pose on him but, at that moment, it just annoyed her.

"Have you read it?" she asked pointedly.

"Not yet, but I've been assured..."

"Fine," she interrupted, "just promise you'll read it."

He raised a hand in surrender. "All right, I'll read it."

CC gave him a sharp nod and reluctantly turned back to the script, hoping it wouldn't immediately put her to sleep.

She was almost relieved when the door flew open and Nanny Fine flounced in. Most of the time, being in the same room with the nanny was almost painful for CC, but she'd gladly take that torture over the most boring play she'd ever read any day.

"Hi, Mr. Sheffield!" The nanny beamed, making CC roll her eyes.

"What is it, Miss Fine? I'm rather busy."

"Yes, Nanny Fine," CC agreed. "Some of us actually work around here."

As always, the nanny ignored CC and went over to Maxwell. Gracefully, she hopped onto the edge of his desk and crossed her legs. Her already much too short black skirt rode up to a barely decent level.

"I wanted to talk about the party."

"What party?" CC asked.

Maxwell sighed heavily. "Miss Fine is insisting I throw a Hallowe'en party this year."

CC thought about this, weighing the pros in her mind. Maxwell in a sexy costume. Niles in a ridiculous costume. Being able to be someone else for a night. Lots of alcohol.

"Actually, I think a Hallowe'en party sounds like fun."

Both dark heads turned towards her, their faces displaying mirroring expressions of disbelief.

"It is her favorite holiday, sir." The glass doors of the terrace opened and Niles came through with a spray bottle and a rag in his hands. "It's the one night she can wear her hat and carry her broom and not get stared at."

CC scowled and pictured him in a fairy costume, including a tutu, handing out hor d'oeuvres and drinks.

"Everybody loves a Hallowe'en party," Nanny Fine insisted. "We could even hire a caterer so Niles could go."

CC forgot her annoyance and her eyes widened. "As a guest?"

Niles smirked at her reaction.

"I don't know, Miss Fine." Maxwell was shaking his head.

Niles's smirk dropped away and he moved behind the desk to start dusting.

"That might be an idea, Maxwell," CC said with no idea why. "That way, he'll be free to sneak away when the moonlight hits him. He can transform and no one will get eaten."

She saw the surprised look on Niles's face as he turned to stare at her. It was her turn to smirk.

Maxwell's eyes narrowed and he looked from CC to Niles to Miss Fine. "Would you like to be a guest at the party, Niles?"

"Whatever you wish, sir. However, I will remind you that I have served you faithfully for twenty-five years..."

He raised his hand again. "All right. All right. If the three of you want a party, we'll have a party. Please, make the arrangements, Miss Fine. Now, can we all get back to work?"

"Thank you, Mr. Sheffield!" Nanny Fine grinned, hopping off of the desk. "Leave everything to me."

When she went out, Maxwell turned to Niles. "Niles?"

"You want me to oversee the plans to make sure she doesn't get carried away or invite only her family and friends from Queens?"

"Would you, old man?"

"I'm on it."

Leaving his dusting, not even bothering to take his rag and spray, he followed Nanny Fine out of the room.

"Really, Maxwell," CC commented, turning back to the script. "You ought to get a lock for that door."

He took of his glasses and rubbed his fingers tiredly over his eyes. "You're probably right."

"Though Broom Hilda would probably just listen in on the intercom."

"Read the script, CC."

"Fine, but if I'm reading something this dry, I'm going to need some coffee."

XXX

Niles leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Miss Fine as she happily scribbled on a piece of paper at the table. Her dark eyes were dancing, and she was smiling.

One of his favorite things about Fran was her enthusiasm. He also really liked how every emotion she had went over her face, making it impossible not to know what she was thinking. It was completely the opposite of Miss Babcock's usual stoicism.

As if his thinking about her had conjured her, the kitchen door opened and Miss Babcock strode purposefully into the room. Niles winced at the stormy expression and wondered what was wrong with her this time.

Miss Babcock stopped short and raised her eyebrows. Her gaze traveled scornfully over Niles, from his face down to his feet.

"If you're not too busy, Niles, I could use some coffee."

"The machine is over there," he snapped automatically. "It's so easy to use, I'm sure even someone with claws could do it."

She thought about this for a moment before saying haughtily, "I want you to do it."

"I'm sorry, but I just don't have the time. I have to get dinner started."

"Oh, please. You're just standing there."

"Actually, he's helping me, Miss Babcock. Would you like to join us?" Miss Fine told her.

She snorted and made her way between the two of them to the coffee maker. "I swear, Rubber Maid, if you were any more useless, we'd have to put you out to pasture."

Niles made a face behind her back, and Fran smiled at him in amusement.

"Stop that, Niles," Miss Babcock stated without even turning around.

"Have you thought about your costume yet, Niles?" Miss Fine asked, her unique voice cutting through Niles's attempt at a retort.

"You mean, he's not coming as a maid?" Miss Babcock asked, turning around and then laughing at her own joke. Her laugh was a rough, husky one that Niles secretly enjoyed.

"We don't all want to dress in things we can find in our own closets. Does this mean you'll be coming as a witch again this year?"

Her laughing stopped abruptly and was replaced with a glare.

Fran ignored them both as she said, "I can get Nadine to cater..."

"That awful woman?" Miss Babcock asked.

"Does that bother you?" Niles raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not. After all, it wasn't my career she ruined."

Niles winced as that comment hit home. "Don't you have something you're supposed to be doing, Babcock?"

Her face fell and she slumped against the counter beside him. Their sides brushed in a familiar manner.

"Are you okay, Miss Babcock?" Miss Fine asked.

"Ian Woon," she said simply.

"What?"

Miss Babcock shook her head. "Never mind. I've got to get back to work. We can't all hang around in the kitchen doing nothing all day."

Looking as if she were heading to her execution, she reached behind her to retrieve her coffee mug.

"Have fun, Miss Babcock," Niles shot at her.

"Can it, Hazel, or you'll be wearing this coffee."

Niles held his tongue and watched her as she left the room. As always, his thoughts were conflicted, and he wasn't sure how he could hate someone so much and adore them even more both at the same time. He was sure Dr. Bort would have a field day with him if she ever got a chance to delve into his brain.

"So, Niles," Miss Fine asked, "are you gonna help me plan this party or not?"

XXX

CC sighed as she slipped out of her skirt and let it pool at her feet. Even though she'd been dressing like a lady with money since she was ten and her mother had ordered Nanny BoBo to destroy anything that even hinted at her previous tomboy status, sometimes the clothes of a Babcock felt restrictive. She wondered what Maxwell—or Niles—would think if they knew that some days she longed to wear jeans. On the rare occasions that she did, she felt so much more human. It was one of the reasons she looked forward to their celebrity baseball game every year, not that she'd ever tell Maxwell.

CC was almost tempted to leave the skirt bunched up there on the floor for Angelica to pick up the next day. It's what her mother would have done but, try as she may, CC had never been able to develop the lip curling disdain for the help that her mother had. Any scorn she felt was mostly just scorn she had for the world in general. It was a sucky place, devoid of happy endings and kindness.

With another sigh, CC started unbuttoning her silk blouse. With every button, she exposed skin she considered way too pale. It never tanned and she refused to burn, so it constantly remained a translucent white. Once considered the height of beauty, now skin like hers earned her pity and suggestions on products that would give her some color. Still, someone had once told her that her skin was like white chocolate. Slipping the silk off of her shoulders, she ran her fingertips along the exposed skin, smiling at the memory.

After adding her stockings and bra to the pile, CC padded barefoot to the hamper, shoving the clothing inside. Catching a glimpse of her nearly naked form in the mirror, CC studied it, wondering why men didn't find her attractive. She was shapely with generous curves but a flat stomach and a small waist. She wasn't tiny by any means but, as a tall woman, she wasn't meant to be. Her body was strong and capable, and she didn't think it was ugly. Still, Maxwell paid as much attention to it as he did Grandma Yetta's. Maybe even less. And Niles didn't waste any opportunity to tell her how ugly and undesirable it was. CC didn't know what to do. With her body type, she'd never be able to look like Nanny Fine—not without appearing to have some terrible disease, anyway.

Disgusted, CC turned away and went to her dresser. She searched through the drawers until she found comfortable pajamas. Usually, she wore silk, but once in awhile she was in the mood for comfort. As she withdrew the pajamas and tied her hair up in a messy ponytail, she wondered what she'd dress up as for Hallowe'en. Thinking of Niles, she decided emphatically that it would not be a witch. She'd love to do something completely uncharacteristic and unexpected. Wouldn't that shock her butler boy?

Her amusement at the thought eased some of her tension and thoughts of having a stiff drink before bed turned to thoughts of hot chocolate. She'd make it like Nanny BoBo had, using real chocolate and lots of whipped cream. Smiling, she slipped fuzzy pants with images of balloons on them over her sensible underwear and pulled a sleeveless tank top over her head.

As she left the bedroom, Chester raised his head to study her. CC waved a hand at him, and he settled back down and closed his eyes. Though she and the mutt pretended to hate each other, they had a comfortable, almost affectionate relationship. It reminded her of the one she had with Maxwell's annoying butler.

She pattered down the hallway barefoot, enjoying the soft carpet against her skin. In the kitchen, she started melting chocolate, considering her costume choices. Nothing she thought of seemed right. In the end, she pushed the issue away to decide later and brought her hot chocolate into the living room. She was exhausted but her brain was too active to even think about going back to her room yet. Instead, she settled on the couch and turned on the TV. There was a screech and a splash of blood, and CC was immediately intrigued.

She loved a good horror flick.

XXX

Niles sat in his bed watching an old black and white movie on his small television set. Except for the light from the TV, the room was dark. It was late, and the house around him was filled with a slumbering silence. Niles would have been sleeping himself but, for some reason, it just wouldn't come. He'd tried all of his tricks to fight insomnia, but none of them had worked. Eventually, he had to give in to the inevitable.

"It's alive!" he said quietly, just seconds before he was echoed by the character on screen.

At least the movie was making him sleepy. Niles was propped up against his headboard with his pillows behind him in case he drifted off. He blinked as his eyelids grew heavy and settled more comfortably against his pillows. He'd close his eyes for just a minute. Maybe it would be enough.

His mind was starting to feel fuzzy and drift, so he went with it, trying to relax into sleep.

"Niles..." The whisper was so soft, he wasn't sure he heard it.

His eyes snapped open and he picked up the remote to mute the movie.

"Niles..." There it was again, barely within hearing range. It was feminine and familiar, but it was so faint he couldn't tell whose voice it was.

Puzzled, he threw off his covers and got out of bed. "Hello?"

His voice sounded loud in the silent room, and the flickering of the TV made strange, creepy images against the wall. Niles was suddenly uncomfortable-almost afraid.

A scream sliced through the night to pierce his heart. Definitely a woman. In pain. Terrified. The sound turned his stomach and made the coward in him want to run. The rest of him, the man that took care of the Sheffield family without faltering no matter what happened, the man who chased spiders, changed diapers, protected a boy who was small and scrawny and picked on, and the man who had once buried his best friend, bristled and hardened. Was that Miss Margaret? Was it Miss Fine?

He steeled himself and, not even bothering to slide into his slippers, stepped out into the hall.

It was so dark, he could barely see into its shadowy depths. The scattered doorways looked more like suggestions of indentations, and a nearby stand with dried flowers appeared sinister in the dim light.

Niles swallowed and stepped forward. The scream came again, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. There was a sob mixed in with it this time, and Niles felt a strong compulsion to stop the pain.

Without hesitation, he started down the hallway. It got darker and darker until he couldn't see where he was going.

"Niles!"

The desperation in the scream clenched his insides. With the word, he realized the voice was Miss Babock's. Someone was hurting Miss Babcock.

Despite the fact that Niles lived to torture her, the thought of someone else physically hurting her angered him.

"Help me." The words were sobbed out and not screamed, and they sounded close enough for him to touch her.

"Miss Babcock?" It came out choked and frightened.

"Please. No more. No more," she begged. And then there was another soul shredding scream.

"Stop it," Niles said firmly. "Leave her alone."

He couldn't tell where the screams were coming from. They seemed to be all around him. The darkness was so disorienting that he had no idea where he was. Logic told him he should have come to the end of the hallway and bumped into something by now, but he felt as if there were nothing around him.

"Niles, help me!"

"Where are you?" When she screamed again, he yelled back, "Miss Babcock!"

He stumbled forward, hoping he was going in the right direction.

The screams came in rapid fire then, as if she had lost control and could not stop. Niles felt tears came to his eyes and drip down his face at the agony in them. Helpless to do anything in the dark but wander aimlessly, he just kept moving, hoping he'd suddenly be bathed with light.

Miss Babcock's screams cut off abruptly, and there was a terrible silence. It surrounded Niles and filled him. It went into his body and pushed everything else out. Niles gasped desperately for air, but there was none to breathe. There was nothing. Nothing but silence.

Niles jerked awake feeling as if there were a terrible weight on his chest. He struggled for air and flailed his arms, fighting against something that insisted on entangling him. It took him several seconds to realize that he could breathe and that the thing holding him so tightly was his own blankets. He could hear the after hours sound of snow from the television; he could see the dim contours of his own room.

Niles took a deep breath and stopped his struggles. A dream. Only a dream. It hadn't felt like a dream. He shuddered as he remembered his almost frantic searching at the end. Miss Babcock's screams still echoed in his ears.

He wanted to call her. He wanted to hear her voice, blurry from sleep and not sharp from fear and agony. He wanted to know she was all right.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was only a little after 4 am. Unless he pretended it was some new kind of torture, Niles didn't dare to call. He'd have to wait until she came in for work.

It was okay, he told himself. She was fine. Still, he was having second thoughts about the perfect prank he had planned for her that afternoon.

XXX

CC woke up with a shudder. Her heart was racing, and she was shivering. On her TV screen, a woman was screeching as some man with a knife tortured and murdered her, but CC didn't think that was the source of the butterflies flying around in her belly or the goosebumps on her arms.

If she'd been dreaming, she couldn't remember it. There was a vague feeling of total darkness that might have been a remnant, but that was it.

Covering a yawn with her hand, CC glanced up a the clock. 4 am. She had another three hours before she had to get up and get ready for work. They'd probably be best spent in her nice, comfy bed.

When she got up, her body protested. It wasn't used to spending so much time in one awkward position. She'd have to use the massage setting on her shower head in the morning to work out some of the kinks. For now, she just wanted more sleep.

As CC made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, she felt a strange prickle on the back of her neck, almost as if someone were watching her. She stopped and turned slowly to stare back into the living room. Seeing nothing, flames of embarrassment flooded her face. Who'd she expect to be there, the boogie man?

Rolling her eyes at her own foolishness, CC went into the bedroom. But she didn't turn out the hall light.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello! Hello!" CC said cheerfully as she entered the Sheffield's the next morning.

Niles turned from where he was arranging flowers in the foyer. When his eyes met hers, a strange expression went over his face. It was gone as suddenly as it appeared, and he scowled at her.

"Doesn't your kind only come out at night?"

"Oh, Niles, stop being an old grouch and come take my coat."

He sighed heavily but came forward and held out his hands.

"You look extra cranky this morning," she commented, sliding one arm out of a sleeve. "Did someone piss in your cornflakes?"

"Very funny," he grumbled, taking the coat from her.

When he didn't elaborate, CC raised her eyebrows in curiosity. She studied him as he silently put her coat in the closet. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he moved slowly. She briefly wondered if something was wrong before sharply telling herself it was none of her business.

"When you have a minute, could you bring me some tea, Niles?"

He seemed startled by her voice, almost as if he had forgotten she was there.

"Tea?"

"Yes, tea, you imbecile. What's wrong with you?"

"It's the shock of seeing your face," he snapped. "Haven't I asked you to wear a mask...or at least a paper bag when you come to work? You could give a man a heart attack."

"Ditto," she said, echoing one of his favorite phrases. "Don't forget my tea."

XXX

Before the morning was over, CC was both ravenous and bored. Halfway through trying to read Ian Woon's script without falling asleep, she realized that she had forgotten to eat breakfast. The more she tried not to think about it, the hungrier she got. Just when she had decided to put the script aside and go swipe something from the kitchen, Niles's voice filled the room.

"Lunch is ready, sir. Would you prefer to eat in the office or the dining room?"

Maxwell frowned in thought before he asked, "What will we be having?"

"Vegetable soup."

"That's a little messy for the desk, isn't it, Maxwell?" CC asked, straightening. It was as good an excuse as any to get her away from Woon's play—and it was true.

"Yes, you're probably right. We'll eat it in the dining room. Thank you, Niles."

"Don't mention it, sir," the butler replied dryly.

Maxwell let go of the intercom button and continued to work, but CC got to her feet and stretched. Her body popped softly as she brought her hands high over her head and straightened her back.

"Aren't you coming, Maxwell?"

"In a minute. I just need to get this down before I forget."

"Would you like me to wait?" Her stomach rumbled so loudly that this time he couldn't help but hear it.

"No," he said in amusement, "you go ahead."

Her cheeks reddened but she just nodded and made her way to the dining room. It was empty, with the exception of Nanny Fine, who was holding up a spoon and fixing her hair in the reflection.

"Hi, Miss Babcock," she said, her voice friendly.

"Hello. Where's the dust mop? I thought he said there'd be soup."

"He'll be here in a minute. Sit down. Rest yourself."

"I'm not you, Nanny Fine. I do have work to do."

The nanny dropped her spoon. "Hey, I have work to do."

'Then why aren't you doing it?"

"We've all got to eat. Geez, Miss Babcock, why are you so cranky?"

CC's answer was interrupted by the appearance of Niles. In his hands was a large tray containing a pot, some bowls, and some spoons. Without acknowledging the women, he put the pot on the warming station and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"So, how is the planning for the party coming, Nanny Fine?" CC asked, pretended to be interested.

The nanny's face lit up. "Great. My sister, Nadine, has agreed to cater. I've already had lots of people tell me they are coming, and all of the children will be away at their friends' for the night, so we can party as late as we want to."

CC made a non-committal noise as Niles came back into the room carrying a tray of drinks. There were two cups, some water glasses, a pitcher, and a glass with brown liquid and a lemon. Niles sat all of these down on the table then went back to the serving station.

"It's going to be so much fun!" Nanny Fine gushed before adding, "Thank you, Niles," as he put a bowl of soup in front of her.

CC had to admit it looked good, nothing like the thin, orange goop she got from a can. The broth was a light golden color, and the pieces of carrot, potato, and turnip were large and cubed.

"The girls and I are going out shopping for our costumes this afternoon after school. Do you wanna come?" Nanny Fine asked.

Ignoring the bowl Niles put down in front of her, CC told her, "I'd rather pluck out my eyes and eat them."

Nanny Fine smirked. "Looks like someone beat you to it."

"What?"

Smiling wider, the nanny indicated CC's bowl with her spoon. Puzzled, CC looked down to see two round eyes with irises the color of the sky staring up at her from between the vegetables. They looked so real that CC let out a strangled scream.

There was a clatter and CC's gaze went to Niles, her heart pounding in her chest. The butler was pale and clutching the side of the serving station. A large ladle was on the floor, the tile around it splattered with liquid. Niles looked as scared as CC had felt.

"Niles," she managed to gasp.

His eyes met hers, and she saw his jaw tighten. Without saying a word, he turned and left the room.

CC watched him and barely heard Nanny Fine say, "He got you that time, huh, Miss Babcock?"

XXX

He was a fool. A complete and utter fool. What was wrong with him? That joke on Miss Babcock should have been funny. It should have brought him evil satisfaction. Hearing her scream should not have made a shot of terror pulse through him so strongly that his stomach clenched and his palms dampened.

He blamed that damn dream. It had been bothering him all day, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it loose.

It was foolish, really. Why was he dreaming about Babcock in distress, anyway? Usually, he liked her in distress. Besides, when he dreamed about her, it was normally a different kind of dream, one that made his heart pound for an entirely different reason.

Thinking of those dreams warmed his cold blood. They were both embarrassing and stimulating—and a lot easier to understand.

He knew he had to go back into the dining room. Soon, Mr. Sheffield would be expecting Niles to serve him, but he had to take a minute first. Miss Babcock's scream had sounded so much like it had in the dream that it had badly shaken him. To make things worse, she'd seen his reaction. There'd been questions in her eyes when he met them. He should have been laughing at her, and it was humiliating that she knew he wasn't.

Damn her, anyway.

"Niles!" Mr. Sheffield's bellow traveled to him from the dining room.

Running a hand slowly down his face, Niles called back, "Coming, sir. I just need a new ladle."

XXX

Darkness surrounded him. It was so thick that it felt as if he were drowning in it. He had to force his breaths evenly in and out. The deep silence had an evil, malevolent feel to it, and Niles could feel eyes assessing him. Somehow he knew that those eyes would have no trouble piercing the dark.

Niles's palms began to sweat, and dampness gathered on his forehead, wetting his hair. He couldn't remember ever being so frightened.

"Who are you?" he yelled with false bravado. "What do you want?"

Silence answered him.

"I know you're out there. Show yourself."

"Niles!" The pain filled scream raised the hairs on his arms.

"Miss Babcock?" he called out.

A cry of despair traveled back to him.

"Miss Babcock, I'm coming."

When she screamed again, he started running. The fear was no longer for himself. His mind conjured up terrible images. Miss Babcock was strong and stoic. Anything that could make her scream in pain and terror had to be horrifying.

"Please, please, no," she cried, her voice shaking.

In desperation, Niles fought the darkness. He had to get to her. He hated her; he adored her. He wanted to hurt her; he wanted to make sure no one would ever hurt her again. He wanted her to leave forever; her leaving would shatter him beyond repair. Conflicting truths pounded down on him as he quickened his pace.

She screamed his name again. It pierced through the panicked fog in his brain and focused him. He had to follow the screams.

The screams suddenly got louder, and he could hear her sobbing pleas. Triumphantly, Niles quickened his pace, determined to reach her.

Unexpected light stabbed his eyes. It was so bright that Niles dropped to his knees and threw his arms over his face so it wouldn't blind him. He struggled to get to his feet, Miss Babcock's sobs echoing around him.

His legs wouldn't obey him. He fought on valiantly, refusing to give up and determined to keep fighting until all the strength was gone from his body...

...Niles jerked awake with a gasp. His pulse pounded and his lungs felt as if they were being squeezed in a vice. He forced them to work, calming as he recognized the familiar shadows of his bedroom.

Another dream.

It was the fourth night in a row that the nightmares had plagued him. Some of the details changed, but it was always charged with terror and full of darkness. Babcock screamed for him over and over again, and the agony in her voice drove her forward. The dreams were so real and so frightening that Niles always woke disoriented and full of panic.

"Damn you, Babcock," he grumbled.

He glanced at the clock to see his alarm would be going off in just a few minutes. With a sigh, he tiredly rubbed his eyes before reaching over to shut off the alarm. Forcing thoughts of the nightmares out of his mind, he tiredly slipped out of bed to begin his day.


	3. Chapter 3

"Have you given any thought on who you'd like to get to play the leads in Love's Tender Kiss?" Maxwell asked, looking up from the script.

"Are you still insisting we produce Woon's play?" CC asked without turning from the ledger in her hands.

"Its a tender love story, CC. If we time it right, we could have it out for the holidays. Everyone likes to see something that makes them feel good during the holidays."

"But do they want to be bored to tears? I don't think we wont them conking out in the aisles, Maxwell."

"We are producing this play, and that's final," he declared, his annoyance plain.

CC shrugged. "You're the boss."

"Is there a problem? You've been in a bad mood for days."

"Have I?" CC put the ledger on the floor and frowned. "Maybe I have."

She couldn't think of any real reason for it. The Hallowe'en party was coming up, but she was looking forward to that—even though she didn't have a costume yet. Niles seemed to be avoiding her lately, ever since the eyeball in her soup incident, but any time she had a little relief from his endless teasing should have been a time of peace. It was just that things seemed...off somehow. She had no other way to describe it.

"If you need a vacation, take it now, before we get started on Love's Tender Kiss."

She waved this away. "I'm fine, Maxwell. Really."

The door opened and Niles entered, commenting, "Of course she is, sir. Can't you see how shiny and wet her nose is?"

CC glared at him, but she couldn't bring herself to be truly angry with him. He smirked at her in response, and her mood lightened slightly. Maybe she really had missed playing with the butler.

"What is it, Niles?" Maxwell asked impatiently. Could he actually want to get back to that terrible Woon script?

"Miss Babcock's father is on the phone." He lifted his hand, displaying the receiver.

CC sighed. She found talking to him highly uncomfortable and avoided it as much as possible. He'd started calling her at Maxwells after he found out that Niles always made her answer. Resigning herself to the uncomfortable conversation to come, she held out her hand. Niles placed the phone into it, his fingers briefly brushing hers. The touch was so light, it was almost like a caress, and CC had to force herself not to frown at the sensation.

"Hello, Daddy," she said, pushing the butler from her mind.

"Hey, kitten. How are you?"

"I'm fine." Her ability to talk in anything more than monosyllables seemed to leave her whenever she talked to him.

"How's work?"

"It's okay."

There was a pause and CC cringed knowing that he was wishing she were different. He wanted a warm, outgoing, friendly daughter—like Nanny Fine—and he didn't know how to talk to a quiet, sensible, sarcastic one. CC had stopped trying to be the daughter he craved a long time ago, but being with him, knowing she wasn't what he wanted, was just too difficult.

He cleared his throat. "Um...do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

"Yes." She really didn't.

"That's a shame. I was thinking I'd have you, Noel, and DD over."

She shook her head. "I can't." This, at least, was true.

"Maybe for Christmas?"

"Maybe."

"Listen, I've got another reason for calling."

"Okay."

"Your grandfather asked me to."

"Grandfather?" she asked in surprise.

It had been a long time since CC had spoken to her father's father. She didn't know him very well because he had divorced his wife long before CC came along. Still, she remembered him as a stern, serious man, both tall and strong. As a child, he scared her a little bit, but he was also the one who'd supported her when she decided she wanted to work instead of waste her money playing like her sister.

"Yes, he wants you to come see him."

Her grandfather had been in assisted living for years. She hadn't been to see him once.

"I can't go..."

"He says it's important, CC."

"Daddy..."

"Go see him, kitten. He said there's something he has to tell you."

Though everything in her wanted to refuse, she croaked out, "Fine."

"Good girl. I know you're busy, but he doesn't have much time left."

"Okay."

"Soon?"

"Soon."

"He'd like to see you before Hallowe'en."

"I'll try, Daddy."

"All right. Think about Thanksgiving, okay?"

"Okay."

She hung up to see two curious pairs of eyes looking at her, one green and one blue."What?"

"You have grandparents?" Niles asked. "I thought you came out from under a rock."

"Shut up, Niles." She threw the phone at him, hoping to hit him, but he easily caught it.

"Do you need time off to go see your grandfather?" Maxwell asked.

CC blinked, not knowing what to say. She hated taking time off for personal things, and it wasn't as if she really wanted to go see the old man. She tried to stay as far away as possible from anyone she was related to—except Noel. Still, whatever her grandfather wanted to talk to her about sounded serious. Maybe it had something to do with her inheritance.

"CC?"

"No," she said, breaking out of her thoughts. "I don't think so." Niles snorted, so she added, "I'll go on my own time."

"You're sure?"

She resisted the urge to glare at him because he was Maxwell and smiled tightly. "Yes. Now what were you saying about the leads for Love's Tender Kiss?"

XXX

As CC rode the elevator up to her penthouse, she soaked in the quiet. It was so nice to be free of the voices that plagued her during the day. Nanny Fine's nasally whine. Niles's smooth, melodious tone. Maxwell's clipped British accent. And the bickering. Lots and lots of bickering. Between the children. Between her and both Niles and Nanny Fine. Between Maxwell and both Niles and Nanny Fine. Sometimes, it was just too much.

There were times when CC truly believed that she was not supposed to be around other people. The problem with that was she loved the theatre and plays were not produced in a vacuum. They involved and directors and actors and set designers. To do what she loved, she had to work with all those people and, since she worked with Maxwell Sheffield, she also had to put up with the craziness of his household. If she were being honest with herself, she had to admit that most of the time, she liked it. The hustle and bustle of all the living that went on in that house made her forget how lonely her own little world was. But there were also days like today, days when she was completely overwhelmed by what her working life had become and all she craved was the solitude of her cold penthouse.

When the elevator stopped at the top floor, CC was already imagining being in her large bathtub, neck deep in suds. She could almost feel the hot water soothing both her muscles and her nerves.

Gratefully, CC stepped into the hallway and paused. Something didn't feel right. Quickly glancing around, she saw that there was no one else there. Everything seemed the same as when she left it that morning. The lighting was at a cheerful and comfortable level, and there were fresh flowers on a table outside her door. They were blue and white, matching the incredibly expensive vase that held them.

Even though the room was empty, CC said a hesitant, "Hello?"

Silence greeted her and she frowned, forcing herself forward. Her backbone prickled with the feeling that someone was watching her. CC tried to ignore it, but could not help hurrying across the small room to her doorway. Her keys jangled loudly as she dug them out of her purse, and they kept clicking together in her haste.

She breathed a sigh of relief as her door finally swung open. Slipping inside, she quickly closed the door. As soon as she did, the feeling of being watched stopped.

CC leaned against the door, breathing deeply. Her heart was racing, and her hands trembled just a little bit. She stayed there like that until she heard tiny claws clicking across the floor.

"Chester?" Her voice sounded thin to her ears.

Her little fluffball of a dog let out several short barks. CC relaxed enough to give him a small smile and pushed herself away from the door.

"Hello, you ugly mutt. Are you hungry? Did Angelica remember to walk you today?"

He let out several more little barks and CC's smile turned into a smirk.

"Just a minute, and I'll get you something to eat."

But first she turned around and locked the door.

XXX

CC was working in blessed peace at Maxwell's desk the next afternoon while Maxwell was at the theatre making sure everything was ready to start their new production. The children were at school, and Niles was out buying groceries. Without distractions, CC was able to make up a quick guest list for a backer's party sometime in early November. She was just thinking about picking up the phone to give Ian Woon a call when the door opened, crumbling her serenity.

"Hey, Miss Babcock."

CC was tempted to ignore the nasally voice but knew she'd never win in a stubborn test of wills. Keeping her face calm and expressionless, CC looked up from her list.

"Yes? What is it, Nanny Fine?"

The nanny perched on the edge of the desk, her expression open and friendly.

"What are you doing?" CC asked crossly.

Nanny Fine studied her silently, making CC uneasy.

"Do you have a costume yet?" she finally asked.

"A costume?"

Nanny Fine rolled her eyes. "Yes. For the party. You know...food, alcohol, fun?"

"You might have time to go gallivanting all over the city at all hours, Nanny Fine, but some of us have to work."

"Would it hurt you to be a little bit nice?"

"Yes."

Nanny Fine waved this away. "Listen, when I went out the other day, I found costumes for the kids but nothing for me. I'm going to look at some more costumes today, and I was wondering if you wanted to come."

"You're asking me to go with you?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" 

"For one thing, you don't like me."

"Well..."

"And, for another, I don't like you." This was a bit of a lie. Sometimes, she actually liked spending time with the nanny. She just wished Nanny Fine hadn't insinuated herself so deeply into Maxwell's life. It was annoying—and it hurt—how much more he thought of the nanny than he did of CC. For some reason, the nanny could do no wrong, and CC could do no right.

"Come on, Miss Babcock. It'll be fun."

"I have no desire to go anywhere with you."

"Sure you do. I'll even buy you dinner."

"Where, at McDonald's?" CC asked sarcastically.

"I hear Wendy's has a good pita," Nanny Fine replied, but CC could tell she was teasing.

"Fine. I'll come with you. Give me a few minutes to finish this list."

"Great!" She hopped off the desk. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

CC had agreed mostly to shut Nanny Fine up, but it actually wasn't a bad idea. She'd been putting off going to get her costume, and Hallowe'en was quickly approaching. This way, she'd be forced to finally buy something. Even if it was ugly. Even if it was a witch's costume.

XXX

"What do you think, Val?" Nanny Fine asked, holding a sexy bunny costume up to her body and peering in a mirror.

"I don't know, Fran," the blond airhead replied, "I don't really think that pink is your color."

CC rolled her eyes and silently pleaded for strength. She had been bouncing from costume shop to costume shop with the dynamic duo for over two hours, and she was getting ready to either pull her hair out or scream. She had already decided that they were going to find costumes in this store or someone was going to die.

"Just buy something, Nanny Fine," she groaned.

The nanny glanced at her but spoke to Val. "Sexy French maid?"

"You've done it."

"Sexy pirate?"

"Done it."

"Cat?"

"That, too."

"My God, you're trying to give me a stroke, aren't you?" CC covered her face with her hands.

"Calm down, Miss Babcock," Nanny Fine told her.

Val added, "She's just upset because you suggested the gorilla costume."

"You know, instead of standing there whining, you could be looking."

CC grimaced at her but turned to the racks. Most of the places they'd been had a good mix of costumes, but this one seemed a little edgier...a little more adult. She wouldn't be caught dead in most of what it had to offer.

"Hey," Nanny Fine said, "look at this. It was made for you."

She took something off the rack and held it out to CC. CC's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open at the two small pieces of fabric clinging to the hanger.

"I can't wear that, Nanny Fine. It's indecent!"

The nanny looked it all over before replying, "I like it."

"Of course you do, but I'm not used to..."

She sighed as if CC were the one driving her crazy and not the other way around.

"What?" CC demanded.

"In case you haven't noticed, Miss Babcock, you're a woman. That might not be obvious most of the time, but I'm pretty sure it's true. You've got hips. You've got boobs. They're not doing you any good if you're the only one who can see them."

"Nanny Fine!"

"She's right, you know," Val said.

"At least try it on," the nanny prodded.

"Never mind. Give it to me. Anything to get out of here."

She snatched it from Nanny Fine's hand and stumbled over to a nearby chair. Sitting down, she glanced at the tag and saw the outrageous costume was in her size. She didn't even want to know how Nanny Fine knew it.

"What are you sitting down for?" Val called over. "You're going to need accessories."

CC began to beat the back of her head gently but repeatedly against the wall. To herself, she mumbled, "Please, kill me now."


	4. Chapter 4

Ian Woon was a tall, skinny man who looked to be barely out of his teens. Dark blond hair that was just a little too long flopped down into his eyes. His arms and legs seemed all elbows and knees, and his choice of a bland gray t-shirt and faded jeans did nothing to disguise this.

CC thought he'd look more comfortable hanging out with Brighton and playing video games than sitting on the green couch with his hands clutching his bony legs.

"Thank you for coming to see us," Maxwell said, full of false enthusiasm and politeness. "We're glad you were available to talk about your own visions for Love's Tender Kiss."

The kid swallowed before nervously saying, "Thank you for having me, Mr. Sheffield."

"What's with the formalities?" Maxwell smiled. "Call me Maxwell."

"Uh...Okay."

CC plastered on a fake smile to match Maxwell's. "And you can call me CC."

Woon's eyes widened and he blinked. "Are you...um...Do you think that would be appropriate, ma'am?"

She had to fight to keep her smile from turning into a scowl. The last time she checked, thirty-seven wasn't quite old enough for a retirement home.

"I'm quite sure it will be all right," she forced out through gritted teeth. The boy looked practically terrified of her—and she hadn't even told him what she honestly thought of his play.

Deciding less threatening was the way to go, CC backed up and leaned gracefully against the front of Maxwell's desk.

"We were thinking young and vibrant for the leads," Maxwell said. "What do you think?"

"Like who?"

"You tell us. What kind of actor and actress do you see for Emily and Warren?"

"Well...uh...I don't know..."

CC wanted to grab Woon by his t-shirt and shake him until his teeth rattled. You'd think the kid had never written a play before. He was so unassuming, you couldn't tell that his first play, Ebb and Flow, had jettisoned him into stardom almost overnight.

"Ian," she said before Maxwell could say anything else, "may I call you Ian?"

He nodded, that lock of hair flopping into his eyes again.

"We thought someone young...fresh...innocent. Unknowns who can display the self-effacing vulnerability of your characters."

He nodded slowly. "I like that."

"Good. Just leave casting to us."

"Okay. I guess."

"We're having a backer's party next month, and you really should be there."

"A party?" He looked nervous. "Will there be a lot of people?"

"I hope so."

"I don't really like people, Miss Ba...uh...ma'..um...CC."

"You'll be fine." She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, oozing false sympathy. "We'll be right there with you."

A look of what could be considered terror went over Woon's face, and CC barely resisted the urge to snap at him.

"So, what do you say?" Maxwell prodded.

"If you think I should."

"Good," CC said, releasing him and adding, "Do you have a costume?"

XXX

Niles yawned widely as he scrubbed the evidence of that morning's breakfast preparation off of the sideboard. His head was fuzzy, and he felt as if he hadn't slept in ages. Every night, the dream came to torture him, messing with his mind. He had no idea what was causing it, but he wanted it to stop.

The kitchen door swung open and Niles glanced up, expecting Miss Fine. Instead, the witch herself came through. He found himself searching her face for signs of distress.

He must have been staring at her for too long because she asked, "What's your problem, Hazel?"

"The same thing that's always my problem," he answered quickly. "You."

She made a face at him and went to the fridge. He watched her carefully, but nothing appeared amiss. There didn't seem to be any indications of stress or fatigue.

It dawned on him suddenly that even though they'd verbally sparred, he hadn't played a prank on her in days—not since the eyeball incident. Maybe it was that and not the nightmares that was making him feel so weird.

As Miss Babcock grabbed a bottle of water and turned towards him, Niles forced his eyes to the counter. He felt her gaze on him, as if she were waiting for him to throw her a zinger. He probably should have, but his heart just wasn't in it.

"I know you're planning something," she said coldly, pointing her bottle at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's something devious in those beady little eyes of yours."

Niles snorted. "I take it you smell something amiss. Maybe you should be sniffing yourself."

"You're not going to sidetrack me. I'm watching you."

"Are you trying to give me nightmares?" Niles said this lightly, but as soon as the words slipped out, he felt his stomach clench.

"They can't be worse than the ones you give me."

"Wanna bet?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Niles. Dear, sweet, intellectually stunted, Niles. Can't you come up with a better comeback than that?"

"Can't you get on your broom and fly out of here so I can get back to work?"

"I'm going. Not because you asked me so nicely but because Maxwell and I are discussing our backer's party."

"Let me guess, you're having it here."

"Oh, hey, maybe not so intellectually stunted after all."

"When is it?"

"November 16...and this time you won't be a guest."

"Who would want to be?"

"Oh...I almost forgot to tell you. This conversation's been so much fun I got sidetracked."

He had to fight off a smile at the sarcasm in her tone. "Tell me what?"

"Nanny Fine will have another guest at her party."

Niles's mouth fell open. "You're bringing a date?"

"No..."

"Of course not." He hit himself lightly in the forehead with his palm. "What was I thinking?"

She gave a little growl that Niles actually thought was rather sexy. He kept this out of his expression as he waited for her to continue.

"Ian Woon," she eventually spat out. "I've invited him to the party."

"The young playwright? Is he old enough to drink?"

"Barely. It's a trial run to see if he can handle the backer's party."

Curious, Niles forgot their game for a minute. "Trial run?"

"Never mind, Florence. Just give Nanny Fine my message."

He saluted smartly, but her back was already to him as she left the room.

XXX

CC grumbled to herself as she pulled up to the imposing white mansion. It was the biggest dwelling she had ever seen, and she could hardly believe it had once belonged to a single family. Since then, the place had changed hands several times before eventually becoming the most expensive seniors' residence in the county.

It was also the last place CC wanted to be. She had planned on putting this visit off for as long as she could, but another call from her father had forced a promise out of her. Unfortunately, her father was one of the few people she could never break a promise to.

As CC got out of her car, she told herself there was still time to escape. All she had to do was turn around, go back to her penthouse, and pretend she was never at the home.

Even though her head said this, she still found herself nervously climbing the front steps. Her hands clutched her purse, and she felt too warm.

At the door, she paused. She thought of her grandfather as he'd been the last time she saw him. In his early eighties, his mind had still been sharp and clear, though his body was starting to betray him. That had been almost ten years before, and she hated to think how he must have changed since then.

Taking a deep breath and plastering on one of her many faux faces—this one was the pleasant airhead—CC turned the knob and went in.

The place gleamed with polished wood. That was CC's first impression. The entryway was grand and airy, with curling wooden stairs and comfortable looking chairs. The foyer was dominated by a desk large enough to sleep on, and its wood matched the dark tones found throughout the rest of the room.

Behind the desk was a portly, dark haired woman in solemn white scrubs. She looked up as CC entered.

Unwilling to look hesitant, CC boldly crossed the room until she was standing at the front of the desk.

"I'm CC Babcock. I've come to see my grandfather."

The nurse studied her. "You've never been here before."

"No."

"Your grandfather's name?"

"Russell. Russell Babcock."

"Ah, yes, Russell. He's in the family room now. You're welcome to go in...but first you must sign the guest ledger."

"Fine."

The nurse handed CC a big black book and a pen. The book requested her name, address, phone number, and the person she was visiting. Quickly, she filled it all in, feeling slightly annoyed.

"Where is my grandfather?" she asked, handing the stuff back to the nurse.

"Down this hallway. It's the second left. You can't miss it."

Without saying thank you, CC started down the corridor, holding her purse close to her body. Her shoes made loud tapping noises against the shiny wood of the floor. She passed a couple of people—a nurse pushing a resident in a wheelchair, a man holding the hand of a sad-eyed little girl. She ignored them and focused on her destination.

The nurse was right; it was hard to miss. The wall was glass, and CC could see inside. The room was large and full of people. Groups of them gathered around different couches and tables and, even though the majority were residents, the people were of all ages.

It was obvious that the home was a place for the wealthy elderly. Everything was shiny and new and obviously chosen to stimulate and sharpen a wandering mind. Clothes were designer, even on the most aged person, and most of the conversation was quiet and polite. CC had a sudden flash of the noise level of a room like this full of Fines and winced.

She walked up to the glass and peered inside, looking for a familiar face. It had been so long since she'd seen him, and he'd grown so old, she hoped she'd be able to recognize him.

It was with some relief that she picked him out almost right away. He was sitting all by himself on a brown leather couch, staring at a big screen TV which was playing an old I Love Lucy episode. He looked lonely. That bothered her, though she wasn't sure why.

CC's fake smile had faltered, but she forced it back on as she breezed through the doorway. A few people glanced at her, but most didn't even acknowledge her presence. That felt wrong somehow. She wanted to be acknowledged for this. She didn't have to be there. She didn't want to be there.

Ignoring everyone, she made her way across the room. As she did, she observed the man who had always been so tall and imposing. Everything about him had shrunk. The last ten years had not been kind to him, and it was almost impossible to see her loud, boisterous grandfather in all those saggy folds of flesh. CC was hit by a sudden urge to run. It was so strong that she stopped...almost turned...but then her strong will got in the way. She, CC Babcock, would not be defeated by an old man watching television.

He didn't even notice her. She stood by the side of the couch waiting, not exactly patiently, but patiently for her. She waited as long as she could before clearing her throat. It was barely louder than the laugh track on the television, but her grandfather turned to look at her.

When he didn't speak, CC forced out, "Hello, Grandfather."

His face crinkled in thought before he asked, "Chastity-Claire?"

"Yes, it's me."

"You look so much like your grandmother."

She grimaced but said, "Thanks."

"Not like Diane-Dorothy. She's all your brazen chit of a mother." He seemed to dismiss both DD and BB with his scornful tone.

"Daddy said you wanted to see me."

He studied her carefully, the intelligence and sharpness in his blue eyes in direct contrast to the sagging age of his face. CC wanted to squirm under his glare, it was so probing. The silence stretched awkwardly.

Finally, unable to stand it, CC asked, "Grandfather?"

"Sit down, child, and stop looming over me."

Flushing, she sat down on the couch, putting as much distance between them as she could. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she clasped them around her purse in her lap.

"What year is it?" he asked unexpectedly. "Time gets all smooshed together in this place."

"1996," she told him, wondering why that mattered.

He frowned. "Just as I thought. And it's October?"

"The 27th," she said impatiently. "Listen, I was told..."

"Patience, Chastity-Claire," he said quietly, but his voice was enough to cut through her intended pointed comment. When she stopped speaking, he continued, "It's the 27th, you say?"

She nodded, eyeing him warily.

"Then I'm on time."

"On time for what?"

"I have to give you something."

Now this was more like it. "What? What do you want to give me?"

"Have to, not want to. I'd have to be insane to want you to need it. I wish it could be buried forever. Unfortunately, that's not the case."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," CC said flatly.

"What?" he asked, looking almost startled that she'd spoken. He paused, then shook his head. "No. No, of course you don't. I'm getting ahead of myself. We must go to my room."

"Why?"

"Because it's in there, that's why. Don't be so disagreeable, child...You really are like your grandmother. Beautiful as a painting but stubborn as a mule."

If anyone except her grandfather—excluding her father—had said that to her, she would have blasted them with words. Since it was her grandfather, she just denied the scream of frustration crawling up her throat and forced her expression to remain blank.

"1896 was a very important year," he told her struggling to get up. "Very important."

"Grandfather, it's 1996, not 1896."

"I know that, Chastity-Claire. I'm not an idiot. Now, help me up."

CC stood and put her hand under his arm, grimacing with distaste. Getting a good grip on him, she roughly hauled him to his feet. He swayed there, and she was afraid he'd topple over. Somehow, he stayed upright, so she snatched her hand away.

"Don't worry," he said gruffly. "I'm stronger than I look. Follow me."

It was slow going. The man was spry for his age, but he was still in his early nineties. CC kept pace with him, wishing there was a way to make him move faster.

He was silent as they walked, and CC assumed it took all of his strength to just keep his feet moving. They rode to the second floor in an ornate elevator, and CC was impressed by how roomy and comfortable it was. There were even padded chairs, supposedly for those who needed to sit going up.

By the time they finally reached her grandfather's room, CC was ready to get into her car and drive home, never looking back. The only thing that stopped her was knowing whatever she was going to be given could be extremely valuable.

His room looked more like a ritzy hotel room than a bedroom in an assisted living home. The money invested in this place was obvious everywhere, from the silk sheets to the paintings by well known artists on the walls.

Her grandfather shuffled to a dark wooden chest under the room's one large window.

"It's in here."

"Huh?"

"The journal. It's in here."

"Journal? What journal?"

He sighed in exasperation. "Haven't you been listening?"

"Of course I have," she snapped. "You haven't been telling."

He blinked in surprise before his face split into a grin. "Oh, Chastity-Claire, you've always been my favorite."

"I have?" She'd never been anyone's favorite anything before.

"I love your spunk. It's probably a good thing you're the youngest...but I wish you weren't."

"You're not making sense. What are you talking about? And what journal?"

"My father's."

That's what he wanted to give her? Her great grandfather's journal?

"Is that what all this is about?"

"You need to read what's inside," he told her, bending down painfully to open the lid on the trunk.

"Why? Is there a treasure map?" Her comment was laced with sarcasm.

"Not a treasure map, no."

He rummaged around in the trunk before coming out with a book that was both old and fragile. Its pages were brown and dry and the cover was faded.

"Something is coming," her grandfather said solemnly, "and you need to be prepared for it."

He held out the journal. His hand trembled, but CC didn't know if it was from palsy or from excitement.

"I don't think..."

"Take it." His voice was suddenly much younger. The shock of its forcefulness made CC reach out and snatch the book from his hands. "Promise me you'll read it."

"I..."

"Promise me, CC." It was the first time he'd ever used her preferred name.

"Okay."

All of the strength seemed to drain out of him then. He hobbled over to his king sized bed and sank onto it, sitting there with his eyes closed.

"Do you...uh...do you need a nurse or something?"

He shook his head. "No. Just tired. I wanted to tell you more...so much more...but I can't. Come back."

"Sure," she lied.

Without even opening his eyes, he lay down on top of the covers. CC waited to see if he would speak again. When he didn't, she left.


	5. Chapter 5

Niles felt at peace as he hummed to himself and dusted everything in the foyer thoroughly. Some days his job made him feel tired and old and he did a half-assed job that anyone but Maxwell Sheffield would have reprimanded him for, but there were other days when he knew he was good at his job. On those days, he took pride in his work, he cooked from scratch, and he made sure everything was perfect in the lives of his little family.

He was smiling as he went to the piano and began dusting the keys, but a sudden thump above his head made him tense.

Putting down his duster, he moved back towards the foyer. There was another thump, and his heart sped up. Suddenly, his peace was shattered by a terrified scream. His stomach clenched and the day that had seemed so benign turned ominous.

"No!" Another scream had him hurrying towards the stairs. It was full of terror, pain, and desperation. He recognized Miss Babcock's voice, and it made fear pulse through his veins.

As he ran up the stairs, Niles realized that everything seemed familiar. This feeling added to his certainty that he was running out of time.

At the top of the stairs, he found it. A splash of blood. It was red and ragged. Niles stopped to study it, bending down to touch it with his fingers.

"Babcock," he said it quietly before yelling it. "Babcock!"

"Niles, help me!"

She sounded far away now. The knowledge spurred him on, and Niles ran faster. Screams and sobs battered at him. Unable to tell where they were coming from, he opened every door as he searched.

"Where are you, dammit?" he demanded, so frustrated he was near tears himself.

Suddenly, the screams stopped. The pleading stopped. The sobs stopped. Niles was left in complete silence.

He was outside of his own room. Fear froze him, and he was unable to open the door. He was suddenly positive that this room wouldn't be empty like the others. Time ticked by until he wasn't sure if minutes or hours went passed before he forced his hand to reach for the doorknob. Hesitantly, he turned it and stepped inside.

Niles found her near the door on the carpet. Her eyes were blank and staring at the ceiling, and blood stained her clothes. There was a streak of it across her face, crimson and wet.

The liquid in Niles's body turned to ice, and he dropped to his knees beside her body. It became hard to breathe as he frantically checked her for signs of life. He his teeth against the horror of coating his hands in her blood, refusing to vent the scream that clawed at his throat.

Niles was shuddering as he woke, his clothes damp and sticking to his body. He sat up on the couch, fighting to calm his furiously beating heart.

He couldn't believe he'd started having the dreams during the day as well as at night.

His jaw clenched as the image of Miss Babcock's vacant eyes came again into his mind. Unlike most dreams, the picture was sharp and clear. Bile rose up into his throat, and Niles had to fight to keep control of his rebellious stomach.

The dreams were getting worse. He had to admit that to himself. This was the first time there had been light and the first time he'd found her. He wished he hadn't. The blood coating her body, coating his hands, had been both shocking and disturbing, and the dream had been so real he was having trouble forcing it from his mind.

"Hello, hello!" The sound of her voice almost stopped his heart.

Slowly, he rose up from the couch and turned around. He half expected to see her face streaked with blood.

His eyes met hers and he noticed they were twinkling with mirth. She was wearing her long white coat and the matching beret was perched jauntily on her head.

"Were you sleeping, Niles?"

"Good Lord, woman, what are you doing here on a Sunday?"

"Testy, aren't we?"

"It's not enough that you torment me during the week..."

"Calm down, Beulah. I'm just here to see if Maxwell wants to schedule the auditions." She looked around, and Niles took the opportunity to watch her. "Is he here?"

"No. He and Miss Fine have taken the children out for the day. I don't expect them home until after dinner." Her face fell, so he continued, "I guess you flew all the way over here for nothing."

"All alone today? No wonder you were slacking off."

"Well, I was alone," he said pointedly.

Miss Babcock rolled her eyes and passed by him on the way to another doorway.

"Where are you going?"

"Since I'm here, I might as well work. I haven't designed the invitations for the backers' party yet."

As soon as she couldn't see him, Niles relaxed. Despite his scorn laced words and steely glare, he'd spent their whole conversation trying to dispel the lingering traces of his dream. He'd be mortified if she ever guessed how much the thought of her death distressed him.

Just before the door, she turned. "Oh, and, Niles, bring me some tea, would you?"

XXX

Niles was acting strangely. As CC sat at Maxwell's desk and worked, the knowledge kept intruding. His jibes and insults seemed to lack some of their old sting, and he hadn't played a prank on her since the eyeballs in her soup. That had to have been at least two weeks ago. It was kind of creeping her out.

Of course, not as much as her visit with her grandfather had the day before. She'd gone all the way to that ritzy home for geriatrics only to be given some dusty old journal. CC had been tempted to throw the thing out. The only thing that stopped her was her promise to her grandfather that she'd read it.

In fact, her grandfather was the whole reason she'd decided to work on a Sunday. She wanted to forget that place—the way it smelled, the feeling of hopelessness, the way her grandfather had aged. All of it had been too much for her. For years, she had practiced tuning out everything that she found unpleasant. The few things that slipped through her control seemed much worse because of it. Nanny Fine was a good example.

Thinking of the nanny made CC's stomach drop. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't seem to be as good as Nanny Fine. With all her money, her influence, her success, CC was still always falling short. She just wasn't good enough—not for her father, not for Maxwell, not even for Niles. A butler. She had no idea why she cared what the dust mop thought about her, but the fact was she did.

Trying to push thoughts of her inadequacies aside, CC stared at the blank document on the office laptop. It was a new thing for them and, more often than not, Maxwell's domain.

Since she was usually the one in charge of the invitations, when she actually got to work, designing them went quite quickly. After all, they would be sending them to a professional, so she just had to sketch out the basic placements and suggested fonts. It was actually rather tedious.

She was peering at the screen, trying to choose between two fonts when she heard the door open.

"What is it, Broom Hilda? Did you finally bring my tea?"

When Niles didn't answer, she glanced up. The room was empty, and the door was closed. She looked around furtively, verifying that she was alone.

What was that crazy butler up to this time?

Annoyed, she pressed the button on the intercom. "Stop that, Niles. I'm trying to work."

"Stop what?" he asked dryly. "Making your tea?"

"Don't play innocent with me. You know what I'm talking about."

"Listen, Babcock, I've spent the last twenty minutes making beds, and I was just about to pour your tea when you so rudely interrupted me."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "Just knock it off."

"Do you want tea or not?"

"Can I trust you not to dip a sweat sock into it?"

"Of course." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Never mind. I'll come get it myself."

He didn't reply, so she grumbled to herself and got up. That butler was certifiable. Certifiably insane and certifiably aggravating. If he was still in the kitchen when she got there, she might just bonk him over the head with one of his own pots.

XXX

Niles was determined to play some sort of prank on Miss Babcock before Hallowe'en. The lines between sleeping and waking were starting to blur and a good prank was the only way he could think to fight it. Miss Babcock was alive. She was the same old annoying, endearing, selfish, beautiful pain in the ass she'd always been. It was just hard to remember that when she died so graphically in his dreams every time he went to sleep. In those dreams, all he wanted to do was save her and protect her, and the feeling was starting to bleed into the times when he was awake.

The last two dreams were the worst. In them, he'd found her bloody body, with her eyes staring blankly upwards, and they'd shaken him more than he liked to admit. For several years, one of his methods of torment had been to find ways to tell her he wished she were dead. He knew he'd never be able to say it again.

He picked up a tray and headed for Mr. Sheffield's office. On the way, he tried to focus on possible pranks and block out thoughts of his nightmare. In the end, they were only dreams, no matter how disturbing they were.

Opening the office door, he found Mr. Sheffield and Miss Babcock working quietly. They had their heads each bent over a script and identical expressions of concentration on their faces.

"I brought sandwiches, sir," he said, breaking the silence.

"Huh?" Mr. Sheffield asked articulately. "Oh. Thank you, Niles. Set them there on the desk."

Miss Babcock looked up as well, and Niles smirked at her. "I see you found a costume. Scary."

"What's scary is your tie. Where'd you pick it up? Servants R Us?"

"Please, you two," Mr. Sheffield growled softly, "I've got a headache."

Miss Babcock lapsed into silence but made a face at Niles. He made a face back before starting to pour two mugs of tea.

"I saw that," Mr. Sheffield said again.

"Sorry, sir."

"He started it, Maxwell."

"I don't care who started it. I want you both to stop it. Stop it or go in the kitchen so I can get some work done."

Niles silently handed him a mug of tea and a sandwich. There was no thank you this time.

Miss Babcock was watching him, so Niles lifted an elegant eyebrow at her. She didn't say anything, so neither did he. He just handed her tea and a sandwich and quietly left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Hallowe'en turned out to be a warm, sunny day, more suited to early September than the end of October. It was doubly nice for Niles because he could spend it lazying around enjoying himself. He slept in late, watched his soaps, and had several interesting conversations with Fran, who also had the day off.

He was still feeling happy and relaxed that evening as he stood in the foyer admiring his costume in the mirror. He looked good. Really good. The gray tank top and the open short sleeved flannel shirt over it accentuated both his chest—which wasn't perfect, by any means, but was toned from years of physical labour—and his muscular arms, while at the same time trimming his belly which, while not really paunchy was still slightly bigger than he'd like. The faded jeans fit him snugly, and he knew they suited his rear (after all, he'd studied it closely in the mirror.) The tool belt and heavy work boots perfected the image and made Niles look and feel more rugged than he ever had in his life.

Niles grabbed the yellow hard hat off of the table and put it on. Deepening his voice, he gestured at the man in the mirror. "Yo."

"Niles, don't you look handsome!" Miss Fine's voice floated to him down the stairs.

He looked up to see a flashback from the seventies descending. Her hair was large and extremely curly, drawn back into a poofy ponytail with a flourescent tie. She wore a midrift baring tank top so tight that it looked painted on and shorts equally as tight and short. The top was white and announced "Disco" in sparkly letters, and the shorts were black with visible white threads. Miss Fine was in her sock feet, but a pair of blue roller skates with bright orange wheels hung over her arm by their laces.

"Oh, look at you," he said.

"Do you like?" She stopped halfway down the stairs and turned slowly.

"I do...and so will every straight man at the party."

She laughed lightly and practically danced the rest of the way down the stairs. "I can't wait for the party to start! Have you seen Mr. Sheffield?"

"I think he's in his room putting on his make up."

"He's putting on make up by himself?" She looked horrified. "Why didn't he ask me for help?"

"Perhaps he wanted to surprise you?"

"We can't have him wandering around at a party in make up he put on. What was he thinking?" She dropped her skates at the bottom of the stairs and hurried up the way she'd come. As she went, she called, "Val, get my make up bag. It's an emergency!"

Niles chuckled and shook his head.

Since his hat was hot, he took it off and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd put it back on later, when the guests started arriving.

He turned to head towards the kitchen but hesitated when he remembered that Nadine and her small crew of workers were in there preparing the food. It felt strange not to be a part of that.

He was wondering if he should go watch Fran and Val try to fix Mr. Sheffield's make up, purely for entertainment's sake, when the doorbell rang. Even though Niles wasn't working, he felt compelled to open the door, and not just because he was the closest to it.

"Niles?" Nanny Fine yelled.

"I'll get it," he yelled back.

Who needed intercoms, he thought in amusement as he went to the door. He wondered who was there so early and guessed it was either someone in the Fine family or Miss Babcock.

When he opened the door, he froze in astonishment. There, looking like every erotic dream he'd ever had, stood Miss Babcock. She was wearing what appeared to be a cavewoman's costume. A small piece of cheetah print fabric barely covered her breasts. A small patterned strap over her left shoulder and the fabric's tight fit were the only things holding the halter in place. The tiny top ended in a ragged diagonal so high that it left her entire flat abdomen bare. Another scrap of cheetah print fabric started below her navel. It had the same diagonal and, while one side reached mid thigh, the other side was so high it was barely decent. On that leg—that very, very long and shapely leg—she wore a matching tie on her upper thigh. Another of the ties adorned her right arm, and there was a necklace of fake animal teeth around her neck. Her high heeled, expensive, open toed shoes also had the cheetah pattern, and there was a spear with a leather cord around it in her hand.

Niles deliberately moved his gaze over her, from her face down to her feet. His mouth was dry and his brain felt fuzzy.

Somehow, he managed to plaster a sneer on his face and say, "He's not going to notice you, you know. Not even in that. You'll look like a pale imitation beside Miss Fine."

As he turned away, he heard her mumble, "I told her it was stupid."

The sad thing was, Niles knew he was partially right. Mr. Sheffield would never notice Miss Babcock while Miss Fine was around. He was too in love with the nanny to notice anyone else. The same thing wasn't true for Niles. He thought Miss Babcock was the most beautiful, sexiest woman he had ever seen in that outfit. It suited her curves perfectly, and between her and Miss Fine he didn't think any of the other women at the party would stand a chance. A part of him wanted to tell her so, but their years of animosity prevented him. Besides, if she thought she looked stupid and not stunning, maybe that would keep her out of trouble.

Especially when she was showing that much skin. Niles usually tried not to think of Miss Babcock's skin. He knew how soft it was, how it felt under his fingertips. It was something he wished he didn't know because sometimes the knowledge scattered his thoughts in directions they shouldn't go.

He swallowed hard and went across to the liquor cabinet. Without turning to look at her, he asked, "You want a drink, I presume?"

"Niles, the party hasn't even started yet."

"And?"

"Yeah, bring me a scotch. Maybe if I get plastered enough, I'll forget I'm half naked. I blame Nanny Fine for this."

"Oh?" He looked at her, raising an amused eyebrow and trying to keep his gaze on her face. It was hard.

"She picked out this horrendous costume. If there's one thing I should know by now, it's not to take fashion advice from Nanny Fine."

"It's not so bad. Maybe there will be a male of your species here to appreciate it."

"Just pour...Hey, I thought you were off tonight."

"I am. I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart. Does that scare you?"

"Hell, yes. Move out of my way. I'll pour my own drink."

"As you wish."

He stepped to the left where he was free to observe her. Her skin really was flawless. It looked delicious.

Niles quickly reined in his thoughts before they went any further. This was Miss Babcock for Heaven's sake, not some woman he was intending to pick up at the party.

When Miss Babcock turned, drink in hand, Niles pretended he hadn't been watching her.

"Niles, why are you standing so close to me? Don't you have something to do? Aren't you going to put on your costume?"

He glared at her and stepped away. Her costume might have been nice, but she was the same old sour puss she'd always been. She laughed briefly at her own joke, and her drink almost sloshed out of the top of her glass.

"Drink up, Miss Babcock. Maybe if you get drunk, someone will actually want to spend time with you at the party."

XXX

A little over two hours later, the party was in full swing. Mr. Sheffield's costume was a hit, as usual. A serious, brooding vampire seemed to suit him. Ladies were asking him to dance left and right.

Surprisingly, Niles was also getting his own share of invitations. Women of all types, including Val in a cute Bo Peep costume, kept coming up to him. It was nice to be thought of as more than the butler, so he went with it.

In between dances, his eyes went to Miss Babcock. She'd also had her fair share of partners, though she refused as often as she agreed. It seemed to depend on the person. Niles had contemplated going up to her and asking himself, but he didn't think he'd enjoy the humiliation of her laughter.

Right now, she was dancing with that boy writer. What was his name? Ian something. The boy had dressed as Superman. The muscle plate he'd used padded out his skinny chest somewhat, but the shorts and tights were too loose for his lanky frame. He looked rather uncomfortable and Niles didn't know if it was because of the party or because he was dancing with Miss Babcock.

Niles smirked at this thought, though he knew if he were dancing with her, he'd be enjoying every minute. He'd tuck it away in the back of his mind to savor later when no one could see him.

As it was, he was pretty sure this was the way he'd be dreaming about her tonight. That nightmare didn't have a chance, not against a libido that had been ignored for far too long.

It would be a relief, really. Those nightmares had been messing with his brain. They'd gotten inside his mind, infiltrating it like soldiers.

Niles frowned and shook his head. He refused to think about them now. He was supposed to be having fun. Deliberately, he walked up to the nearest person—Sylvia Fine dressed as a fairy princess—and asked her to dance.

She looked both surprised and pleased as she smiled at him.

"Just let me find a place to put my cake."

"Certainly." Niles was already regretting his rash decision.

XXX

"This is a great party, isn't it, Niles?" Miss Fine asked him as he twirled her around. She was light and graceful on her retro skates, and he'd bet she'd been quite popular at the skating rinks in her youth.

"Yes."

"I'm so glad you got to come as a guest. What do you think of Nadine's food?"

"It's good," he lied smoothly. Really, he thought, it wasn't half as good as his.

This was his third time dancing with Miss Fine. As he'd guessed earlier, the men had flocked to her, and she'd danced with everyone who'd asked. Mr. Sheffield had even got up the nerve, which made both Fran and Niles beam with happiness.

As the song ended, Miss Fine let go of him and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the dance, Scarecrow."

She moved off, and a voice asked behind him, "Does this mean you're free for the next one?"

Niles whirled around in surprise to see the woman he'd been staring at all night. She was flushed from either dancing or alcohol, and her eyes sparkled with fun. She looked so unlike his normal, serious Miss Babcock that Niles blinked to make sure it was her.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Babcock?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Niles. I've been poked and prodded enough. I want to dance with someone who won't take the opportunity to pinch me and make a lewd suggestion. How does Nanny Fine put up with it?"

He didn't know how to answer this except ask, "How much have you had to drink this evening?"

"Does it matter?"

He shrugged. "I guess not. I've had enough to make even you appealing."

"Glad to hear I. Now, dance with me, Butler Boy."

Niles sighed, pretending to be reluctant, even though this was what he'd wanted all night. Slowly, he took her into his arms and tried not to react at the feeling of her skin against his. It was even softer than he remembered.

The song that came on was a slow one, and her arms went around him. They swayed together as if they'd done it a million times before. Holding her felt as natural as breathing.

When the dance was over, Miss Babcock winked at him and drifted away, but Niles could still feel her in his arms. He wished he had dared to stroke the soft silkiness under his fingers instead of just soaking in the heat.

"Are you okay, Niles?" Val asked, coming up to him. "You look a little strange."

"I'm fine, Miss Toriello. Are you enjoying the party?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah."

"May I get you a drink?"

"No! It's your night off. Let me get you a drink. Wine?"

"Brandy, please."

"Okay. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

He nodded, but he wasn't thinking of her anymore. His mind was once more on Miss Babcock and the way her curves had felt against him. He wondered if he'd get to dance with her again.

Instinctively, his eyes scanned the room, searching for her. He found her once more chatting with Ian Woon. The young playwright still looked uncomfortable and was politely gazing into her face as he listened. It was more than Niles would have been able to do at his age.

"Having a good time, old man?" Niles was so intent on watching Miss Babcock that his boss's voice startled him.

Putting a hand to his chest, he said, "Don't do that, sir."

"Sorry." Mr. Sheffield clapped him heartily on the back. "Have you seen Miss Fine?"

"Isn't that her dancing with..."

"Him? What is she doing with him? Maybe I should go rescue her."

"That might be a good idea, sir." Somehow, he managed to keep his amusement from showing.

As Mr. Sheffield drifted off, there was a high pitched scream from over by the piano. Niles's stomach clenched briefly before he realized the scream hadn't come from Miss Babcock. Instead, it was a slim, blond actress that reminded him of Miss Margaret.

Niles hurried over to see what the problem was was. The girl, dressed as a ballerina, had turned into the arms of a man dressed like a hockey player.

"What is it?" Miss Fine was asking as Niles approached.

"A spider. I saw a spider in there."

"In there" was a crystal container on top of the piano filled with round chocolates covered in orange foil with jack-o-lantern faces.

"A spider?" Miss Fine frowned and picked up the bowl. "Oh, yes. A spider."

She fished inside and brought out not one but five. These, she showed to the blond actress, who shuddered.

Niles asked, "Miss Fine?"

"Plastic. I think we need to make a trip to the kitchen, Niles."

Mr. Sheffield hurried over. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Someone's laced the chocolate with plastic spiders."

"Your sister?"

"I don't know, but I think we should find out."

Together, the three of them moved through the dancers. When they reached the kitchen, they found Nadine holding two boys dressed as ninjas.

"What's going on?" Mr. Sheffield demanded.

"I found these two putting plastic bugs in the food."

Brighton smiled sheepishly. "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Mr. Sheffield," the other boy echoed.

"What are you two doing here?"

"It was just a joke. Tommy's parents went to bed early, and we were bored," Brighton explained.

"Brighton Milhouse Sheffield, I thought you had outgrown these kinds of shenanigans. You are almost fifteen years old!"

"We didn't mean anything by it."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Miss Fine said. "Using perfectly good food for your prank."

Mr. Sheffield gave her a long suffering glance before continuing, "Now, I want the two of you to go upstairs. I'll be calling Tommy's parents in the morning and together we'll come up with a suitable punishment for sneaking out and acting like children."

"Okay, Dad."

"You can let them go now, Nadine," Fran told her sister.

She did and both boys headed for the stairs. Niles thought Mr. Sheffield had overreacted a bit, but it wasn't his place to say so.

He was just about to turn to go back to the party when the lights went out.

"Brighton?" Mr. Sheffield asked.

"It wasn't us, Dad."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Maybe we blew a fuse, sir."

"Go check, would you, old man?"

From the other side of the house, Niles could hear panicked murmurs and soft cries.

"It's only a little bit of darkness, you wimps." Miss Babcock's voice cut clearly through the chaos. "We just have to find a candle."

Niles thought that was good advice. He felt his way carefully over to the cupboard where he kept his emergency flashlight. It was right where it was supposed to be, so he took it out and shone it around the room. Seeing the nervous faces, he went back into the drawer to find candles and matches. These, he gave to Fran.

"You folks stay here. I'm going to go check on the guests, then I'll go down and check the breaker."

"Okay," Mr. Sheffield agreed.

Miss Fine added, "Be careful."

As Nikes moved through the dark house, a strange feeling came over him. The darkness reminded him of the relentless nightmares he'd been suffering from, and the child inside of him started begging him to stop, telling him the nightmares had become real.

He approached the guests, who were wandering around in the dark, and saw several small flames flickering over concerned faces. The costumes made the faces seem almost ghoulish.

"Miss Babcock?" he called, wincing at the nervousness in his voice.

"What's going on, Hazel? You don't really need to hide in the dark; your costume's not that bad," she replied.

Niles couldn't see her, but he breathed a secret sigh of relief. His first instinct was to keep her safe, and he cursed the dreams that put such ideas into his head.

"Where are you, you infuriating woman?"

"I'm over by the piano."

He shone his light over that way and saw her. She looked annoyed but healthy.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked, this time to the room in general. There was a chorus of affirmatives, so he added, "I think we've blown a fuse. I'm going to go down in the basement to check. Hold tight."

"You're going alone?" Val appeared at his elbow. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Hold on, Niles," Miss Babcock said. "I'll go with you."

Both of Niles's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "These people will know if you push me down the stairs."

She snorted and moved through the crowd towards him. "Val's right. You shouldn't go down there alone."

"I do it all the time."

As she reached him, she growled, "Can it, Rubber Maid. One of our prospective investors got a little too drunk and won't stop pinching my ass. If I don't get out of here, he's going to get it."

Niles smiled in understanding. "Ah. All right, then. Come along, Miss Babcock."

At least this way, he could keep an eye on her in the dark.

"Do you want me to come too?" Val looked at the two of them uncertainly.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Toriello. There's nothing in the darkness more dangerous to us than each other."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

Miss Babcock rolled her eyes and held out her lighter. "Here, see if you can find some more candles."

"Okay."

The door to the basement was at the back of the house, away from most of the revelers. Niles and Miss Babcock walked towards it silently. He didn't look at her, but he could feel her there by his side. She was warm and breathing. He wanted to reach out and take her hand. Not as a sign of affection, of course, but to keep her there with him. His irrational self screamed at him that something in the darkness wanted her, that it would take her and torture her and murder her as it had in his dreams. Niles knew it was foolish, but that didn't stop the little hairs from standing up all over his body.

"Did I tell you I like your costume?" she asked casually as he opened the door. "You look almost manly."

"I was going to say the same about you."

"Of course you were," she replied a little crossly, kicking off her shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm not going down those stairs in the dark in heels."

"Oh, good plan."

Niles flicked the light switch so he'd know if the power came back on before making a sweeping gesture with the flashlight to illuminate the stairs. They were steep but free of debris.

"Hold on to the railing," he continued. "The stairs are steep and, if you fall, they'll arrest me for murder."

"That might be worth dying for," she answered, but she wrapped her hand around the round metal railing. "Lead on, Dust Buster."

They went slowly so they wouldn't fall. The stairs were narrow, so Niles let Miss Babcock lead the way while he illuminated her steps. He stayed close behind her, just a stairstep away, alert to any signs that she might suddenly tumble to her death.

"You could clean down here once in awhile," she said dryly.

Niles assumed she was referring to the number of cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. The truth was, since this section was cut off from the rest of the basement, even having a separate entrance, Niles often forgot it existed. The only times he had to go down there were when there were problems with the power or water.

"I'd have thought you'd feel right at home here."

"Well, I do spend a lot of time with a large creepy crawly, so I guess I should be used to it...Where's the fuse box?"

"Over there."

She glanced back to see where he was pointing. Even in the harsh light from the flashlight, her skin glowed. In spite of himself, he touched her arm.

"What?" she asked.

He was still touching her as he said, "Let me go first."

"All right. Just don't leave me behind in the dark."

He smirked at her. "You know me too well."

Reluctantly, he lifted his fingers from her soft skin and moved in front of her. As he started walking, he could hear her behind him. After just a few steps, she made a little sound of distress.

"What is it?"

"The floor is rough, Niles. And dirty. I'm going to have to go see Dr. Taylor tomorrow for a shot."

"You're the one who took your shoes off."

"Give me your boots."

"What?"

"Your boots. Give them to me."

"I'm not going to give you my boots."

"Then you'll have to carry me."

"I can't lift you. Stop complaining. We're almost there."

"If I catch some horrible disease and die, I'm blaming it on you."

They bickered easily as they continued on towards the fuse box. Niles actually considered giving her his boots but decided against it. He didn't want her to think he was going soft.

He was just reaching for the panel when the lights came back on. Throwing his arm over his eyes, he heard Miss Babcock give a small cry of pain.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything. I guess it wasn't a fuse. Maybe it was the wind. There's nothing we can do now. Let's head back upstairs."

His eyes were watering when he took his arm away, so he blinked to clear them.

He and Miss Babcock turned to leave at the same time. She let out a screech and Niles's heart lurched into his throat. Standing directly behind them was the boy playwright. Niles hadn't even heard anyone come down the stairs.

"Mr. Woon," he gasped. "What are you doing down here?"

Ian looked at them solemnly, studying them as if searching for something. He swallowed and blinked but didn't move. Niles wondered if he were having some sort of seizure.

"Ian, darling, are you all right?" Miss Babcock asked with false sweetness.

"Yes...Yes, I'm fine." He sounded uncertain. "I came down to see if you needed any help."

"It seems to be fine now," Niles told him. "I'm sure we'll all be happier upstairs."

Woon nodded. "Okay. Miss Babcock, are you all right?"

"It's just a little darkness."

"It's her natural element," Niles put in. The playwright looked at him curiously but didn't reply. "Shall we?"

They started back up the stairs in single file, Woon in the front and Niles in the back. Niles couldn't help but think of what a bizarre night it had been. Perhaps the most bizarre part of it being that he had just discovered, under that cheetah print cavewoman costume, Miss Babcock was wearing very tiny matching underwear.

XXX

The party wound down at about two, with the strange power outage at midnight enhancing instead of detracting from the experience. CC had to admit that she'd enjoyed herself. Despite the filth on her feet, the lewd pinches, and the fact that Maxwell hadn't even noticed how much of herself she'd bared, the party had been fun. She'd drunk less than usual and danced more than usual. It had been nice to see a few eyes lighting with interest when she passed.

As Niles saw the last few guests out—the Fines, of course—she watched him thoughtfully. His costume suited him, giving his body shape it never had in a suit and tie. He had also actually been pretty nice to her all evening, so she decided not to be angry with him for making fun of her costume.

CC wished she'd thought to bring a jacket. The early evening had been quite warm for October, but now she could feel a cold draft every time Niles opened the door. She wondered if he would find something for her to wear home if she tried to ask nicely.

"Heading to your normal street corner?" Niles asked when he saw her watching him.

"I think I'll just call it a night."

He nodded. "I'll make up your usual room."

"I'm not driving, Niles. I'll just call a cab."

Niles frowned, looking her up and down. "You're going home in that at this time of the night?"

"I am. I would appreciate a jacket or some kind of sweater, if you could spare something."

His face hardened. "You are not going out there tonight."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've missed your coven meeting. You may as well forget about it and go to bed."

CC sighed. "I'm too tired to play with you tonight. Please let me go home."

"No," he insisted. "You've got clothing you've left here before. I'm sure Miss Fine could find you something to sleep in..."

"Okay, what's this about, Niles? Why do you care whether I stay or go?"

"It's 2:30 on Hallowe'en night. The city is full of the unhinged. It's the one night of the year when you appear almost sane."

He seemed looked almost concerned. Curious, CC studied his face, studied his posture. There was something there. He seemed uneasy...tense. Normally, she would have teased him about it, but the vibe she was getting from him was too strange.

Throwing up her arms, she said, "Fine, I'll stay! Are you happy?"

"Having you under our roof? Never."

"I think you're the one with the screw loose, Butler Boy." 

"I have to be to worry about you," he grumbled before saying more loudly, "Please bathe before you get between my clean sheets. Your feet are filthy."

Between his sheets, huh? Yeah, right, like she'd ever get between his sheets.

"Will you draw the bath for me, Niles?"

"Now, why would I do that?" he asked.

"Because it's your job."

"Not tonight. I'm off until Saturday, remember?"

She grimaced at him but couldn't argue with the truth. The only thing she could think to say was, "Then why bother making up the room? Why not just send me on my way?"

He sighed deeply. "Just come upstairs, Babcock. I'll change the sheets and find you a nightshirt while you have a shower. After that, we'll go to bed and get some sleep before morning."

"Whatever." She waved a hand at him. Arguing took way too much energy.


	7. Chapter 7

A stream of light shone through a small slit between the curtains and into CC's eyes, waking her up. Groaning, she grabbed her pillow and placed it over her face. The bed was so comfortable, she wanted to sleep just a little bit longer. Even though it wasn't her bed, it was warm and cozy and familiar.

As she lay there trying to go back to sleep, she thought about the Hallowe'en party. Usually, those kind of things bored her, and she used them mostly to network, getting through them by drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Last night, she'd enjoyed herself instead. She had danced just to dance and ate way more than she drank. It was odd to be waking up after a party without a fuzzy mouth and a headache.

Slowly, CC became aware that someone was watching her. She could feel his eyes. Her breath caught, and she waited for him to speak. Part of her was hoping that it was Maxwell, but most of her knew that he would never let himself into her room without knocking. It had to be Niles.

Annoyed, she asked, "What do you want, Florence?"

When he didn't answer, CC lifted the pillow high enough to peer out. Niles wasn't there. In fact, no one was there.

"Niles?" she said, sitting up quickly, knocking her pillow to the floor.

Looking around, she saw her room really was empty. Abruptly, the sensation she was being watched stopped. Feeling shaky, but not quite sure why, CC got out of bed and padded to the door. She opened it to look out into the hallway, but there was no one there.

"Niles?" she called softly.

Only silence answered. She turned to go back into her room but found she didn't want to. Something almost like fear settled into her belly, and she decided it was time to go down and find something for breakfast instead.

XXX

Niles yawned widely as he set up the coffee maker for his first cup of the day. He was so tired and draggy that he hadn't even bothered to dress. Since it was his day off, he didn't think Mr. Sheffield would mind him shuffling around in fuzzy slippers, striped pajamas, and a worn robe that had been a gift from Catherine more years ago than he wanted to count.

He'd had almost no sleep. It was after three by the time he got everyone in the house settled and could go to bed himself. Once in bed, his restless sleep was plagued by dreams—some of them glorious and some of them horrific-so real he was disoriented when he woke. He'd been right about Miss Babcock's costume haunting his dreams, and he dreamed over and over again of touching her, kissing her, loving her, but he'd been wrong about those dreams keeping the nightmares at bay. They'd been heartwrenching in their brutal but stark violence, and the terror, guilt, and anguish of them were enough for him to wake with tears in his eyes.

All over Babcock.

That's what he didn't get. Despite the way he treated her, he'd always known that he had more affection for her than hate, but he still couldn't understand why it was her his subconscious chose to torture and murder over and over again.

He really needed that cup of coffee.

The stairs creaked, so Niles glanced up to see Miss Babcock descending. She hadn't bothered to dress either, and the small nightshirt that reached mid thigh on Miss Fine was quite a bit shorter on her taller, fuller frame. It seemed he was going to be treated with a tantalizing view of her long, shapely legs once again.

"Coffee?" she croaked.

"Brewing, Miss Babcock. Would you like some breakfast?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're offering to make me breakfast?"

"You are Miss Babcock, are you not?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "Don't read too much into it. I was about to make some for myself."

"The others?"

"I haven't seen them yet...Well, except Master Brighton. He was up and away about a half an hour ago, probably avoiding his father. Mr. Sheffield tends to sleep in when he drinks too much, if there's no work to be done. As for Miss Fine, I expect her down as soon as the smell of breakfast rises to her room. I'll make enough for three."

She frowned, rubbing a hand over one eye like a young girl. "I thought you were off today."

"I am, but I'm also the only one in this household who can cook."

"Good point."

He went over to the cupboard and took out two large mugs. Setting them on the table, he said, "Why don't you pour us some coffee while I start the bacon and eggs."

"Okay," she agreed.

He heard her stomach rumble as he passed her and couldn't help the little smile that came to his face.

"I like..."

"Milk, not cream, no sugar. Yes, I know," she grumbled, reaching for the pot.

He stopped and turned back to stare at her. "That's right."

"Don't look so shocked, Beulah. I've known you for fifteen years."

He watched her as she poured the coffee, wondering who this sleepy, beautiful, almost pleasant woman was. She certainly couldn't be his Miss Babcock.

"Niles," she asked suddenly, "were you in my room this morning?"

He was surprised out of eyeing the hem of her nightshirt. "Your room?"

"Yes. I had the strange feeling that someone was in there while I slept."

"I wouldn't be caught dead in your bedroom, like any other man."

"Do you think the boy would..."

Niles shook his head. "He's not nearly brave enough. You must have dreamed it."

"I guess. It just felt so real."

"How much did you have to drink last night?"

She glared at him so he resumed his trip to the fridge. There, he grabbed bacon, eggs, frozen hashbrowns, milk, and cream. His hands were so full, he had to close the door with his butt.

Miss Babcock came and took the milk and cream from him. She was a little rough, and he barely kept his grip on the eggs.

"Careful!"

She didn't say anything but answered him with a smirk. Niles didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed.

As Niles cracked open an egg, he contemplated how unusual it was to share his morning ritual with someone. When Grace was very small, before she started school and after Sara's death, she used to help him cook in the mornings. Since then, the children were either sleeping or preparing for school. Maxwell had always considered himself beneath cooking, and Fran usually slept in until the last possible second. Niles found he liked having someone to share breakfast preparations with—even if it was Babcock.

"Your coffee's on the counter, Niles," she said, suddenly behind him.

He almost dropped the egg in his hand into the pan, shell and all.

"Nervous?"

"You would be too if a Sasquatch snuck up behind you." 

"Please, Niles. It's too early and we stayed up way too late to spar now. Can't we call a truce until after breakfast?"

"Go wait in the dining room. I'll bring it in when I'm done."

"I'd rather sit here and wait...if that's okay." She sounded uncertain.

"If you must," he said easily.

She walked over to the little table and sat with her back to him. The two of remained silent with Niles occasionally sneaking glances at Miss Babcock and wondering what she was thinking.

The solitude was broken by a thumping noise on the stairs and a nasally but cheery voice saying, "Morning all!"

"Good morning, Miss Fine. Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby." She grinned. "That was some party, huh?"

XXX

Niles was sitting in front of the TV later watching his soaps and enjoying some cake and lemonade when the doorbell rang. Brighton had been allowed to go back to Tommy's for the rest of the weekend despite his silly prank, Miss Fine had gone to her mother's, Mr. Sheffield had gone tie shopping—a laborous, all day affair for him—and Miss Babcock had left soon after breakfast, so Niles was alone in the house.

Grumbling a little, he put down his cake and muted the television. The doorbell rang again, so he got to his feet with a sigh. Even on days off, there was no rest for the wicked.

He was tempted to drag his feet so the person would go away. After all, visitors were rarely for him, so he'd probably just have to turn the guest away anyway.

The doorbell rang a third time as he reached it, so he yanked it open, plastering on a pleasant face.

He was surprised to see Ian Woon on the other side. The young man was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and had his hands in his pockets. When Niles opened the door, he pushed past him.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Woon," Niles said evenly, not really liking the furtive way Woon's eyes searched the foyer.

Woon looked at him for a long moment, not blinking and seeming not even to breathe. "Hello, Niles."

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm here for Miss Babcock." His voice deepened and he cleared his throat.

"Miss Babcock?"

"Yes. We were supposed to discuss some things. About my play."

"I'm sorry. Mr. Sheffield gave his staff the day off today. She's not here."

Woon's eyes snapped to Niles's face and seemed to burn into it. Uncomfortable, Niles took a step back.

"Where is she?"

"I have no idea," Niles said honestly.

"Are you certain?"

"Quite certain. You may want to try her cell phone."

Woon thought about this before nodding.

"Would you like me to tell Mr. Sheffield you'd be interested in scheduling a meeting for Monday?"

"Monday? Yes, Monday will be fine...Quite fine."

As Woon turned to go, a piercing blade of pain sliced through Niles's head. He stumbled slightly, feeling disoriented. Far away, inside his mind, he could hear the echoes of screams and terrified pleadings. With a shaking hand, he reached towards the little table, using it to steady himself.

"Niles, help me!" The words were faint, but he could make out their meaning.

No, he thought. No, no, no, no. I will not let you in. Not while I'm awake.

He closed his eyes, gasping for air, fighting to breathe. It was only seconds until the nightmare receded and he felt like himself again.

He opened his eyes, intent on apologizing to Mr. Woon for what could have looked like a psychotic episode. He didn't have to apologize because Ian Woon was gone.

XXX

The weekend went by quickly, mostly because Niles had to work like a madman to catch up on his neglected housework. At least it was quiet. With the children gone and Miss Fine running in and out, it was mostly just Niles and Mr. Sheffield at home.

Niles was still exhausted because the nightmares continued to plague him. And they were getting worse. He was starting to find trails of blood in them now. It was sticky and warm and so fresh that it hadn't even started to congeal yet.

Monday morning came way too early. He was dragging all through preparing breakfast and had to fight to hide his yawns while the others were eating.

"Niles, are you okay, sweetie?" Miss Fine asked when she brought her plate up for seconds.

"I just haven't been sleeping well," he admitted. "It's been weeks since I've had a good night's sleep. I've tried everything I can think of, and nothing helps, not even sleeping pills."

She studied his face in concern. "Maybe you should go see a doctor."

"I'm considering it."

He filled her plate and she squeezed his arm briefly before returning to her seat.

The door opened and Miss Babcock breezed in. "Hello, hello."

"Good morning, CC," Mr. Sheffield smiled. "Would you like to join us?"

Niles groaned. "Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse."

Miss Babcock glared at him but sat down beside Miss Margaret in her usual chair.

Niles contemplated making her a plate consisting solely of things she hated but changed his mind. Instead, he filled it with her favorites. Doing the occasional nice thing for her kept her on her toes. He lived to keep her on her toes.

As anticipated, she looked up at him in surprise when he placed her plate in front of her.

"Niles, did you spit in this?"

"Of course not."

"I wouldn't put it past you."

"Rest assured, Miss Babcock, this meal is one hundred percent safe to eat."

She studied him suspiciously. "I've heard that before."

This forced a laugh out of him. "This time it's true."

"Okay then." 

Niles caught Miss Fine's eye just as she was smiling in amusement. He winked at her and moved back around the table to stand at the serving tray.

"Oh, CC," Mr. Sheffield said obliviously, "We have a meeting with Mr. Woon this afternoon at two."

"Another meeting with Ian?" She glanced at him.

"Yes. He told me he had some things he wanted to discuss with us about the script."

"Couldn't you just tell him no, Maxwell? I hate when writers get overly involved in our productions."

"He hasn't signed the contract yet, CC."

Her face fell. "Oh, yeah. Right."

"What's wrong with this Ian guy, anyway?" Miss Fine asked, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth and starting to chew.

"Nothing," Mr. Sheffield said.

"He's just so young and earnest," Miss Babcock added. "What he needs is a distraction...Hey, Maxwell, do you think Mary-Ann will go on a date with him?"

"Mary-Ann?"

"If by Mary-Ann you mean me, I'm not interested," Miss Margaret protested, pointing her fork at her father.

"Why not?" Miss Babcock asked. "He's a perfectly nice boy."

"He's also too old for her," Mr. Sheffield said firmly.

"Okay. Okay. It was just a thought."


	8. Chapter 8

"Maxwell," CC asked that afternoon as she returned from eating a quick sandwich in the kitchen, "does Niles seem to be acting strangely to you today?"

Maxwell looked up and took off his glasses. "He's been perfectly pleasant to you."

"That's what I mean." She faked a shudder. "Do you think he's up to something?"

"Maybe he's just having a good day. Why question it?"

"Because it gives me the heebie-jeebies."

As if mentioning him had summoned him, there was a knock on the door and Niles came in. "Mr. Woon is here for his appointment, sir."

"Ask him to come in," Maxwell said.

"Yes, sir."

"I hope Ian doesn't have too many suggestions," CC commented as they waited for the playwright.

"We'll deal with it...and make sure he signs that contract before he leaves."

"If we have to hold the pen in his hand and force him."

Maxwell must have been feeling much the same because he didn't contradict her. She was going to say something else when Niles breezed in with Ian behind him.

"Mr. Ian Woon."

"Than you, Niles." Maxwell stood up and extended his hand. "Nice to see you again, Ian. Did you enjoy the Hallowe'en party?"

Ian studied him for a few seconds before taking his hand and shaking it. "Yes."

He let go of Maxwell's hand and turned to CC. There was something strange in his face; he looked so much more solemn and sure of himself than he had at their last meeting.

"Miss Babcock, how are you?"

His eyes seemed to burrow right through her skin into her, and it made her feel highly uncomfortable.

"I'm fine." She brushed his question off. "You wanted to talk about the production?"

"The production. Of course. May I sit beside you?"

"If you wish."

"What exactly was it you wanted to talk about?" Maxwell asked.

Ian had been staring at CC but he blinked and turned his attention to Maxwell at the words. He seemed to mull them over, taking a long time to reply.

Finally, he said, "Changes. Are you thinking of making changes to the script?"

"Not to the dialogue, no. We do need to decide where we want the musical numbers and hire a composer."

"I have some ideas."

Maxwell frowned briefly before saying, "Of course. We'd love your input."

CC sat up straighter, figuring this was her in. "About the contract, will you be signing today?"

"I haven't signed the contract?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then of course I will do so. Let's get that over with, and afterward we'll discuss my ideas."

CC grinned and grabbed the papers and pen she had ready and waiting. Her motto was sign them as soon as possible so they couldn't get away. As far as she was concerned, the day couldn't get any better, no matter what Woon's suggestions turned out to be.

XXX

Woon droned on and on and on until CC's head started thumping with a terrible, pounding headache. Maxwell must have felt the same because after about an hour he called a break. When Woon took the opportunity to go to the restroom and Maxwell headed for the kitchen, CC stepped out onto the terrace to get some air. The slight breeze was cool against her face as it gently played with her hair. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, preparing herself for another hour or so of talking about Woon's ideas.

"Hello, CC."

Startled, she whirled to see Ian standing behind her. He'd been so silent, she hadn't even heard the door open.

"Hello."

"It's nice out here on the terrace. Very isolated."

"I suppose."

He moved closer with a fluid grace that surprised her. She remembered Woon as being shy and awkward, but she supposed that could have been an act.

When he entered her personal space, CC took a step backwards. Ian followed.

"Has anyone told you you're a very beautiful woman, CC?" he asked, trailing a finger down her arm. "You have very soft skin. I like touching it."

CC snorted. "You've got to be kidding me. You're all of what? Twenty-one?"

He smiled ferally, showing teeth. "I'm older than you think."

Discomfort made her back away again. Her backside hit the small, round table where she often worked in the summer. She had nowhere to go when he took another bold step forward.

Red flags waved frantically in her mind, and she wondered if she'd have to put the little pup in his place. Maxwell would probably kill her for losing the play, and she normally put up with a little pawing for the sake of their business, but this was getting creepy.

Ian lifted his hand and brushed it across her collarbone. "You have a delicate neck. So fragile."

She tensed herself to knee him but, before she could, Niles came onto the terrace. He gave them a puzzled look and said, "You're finding them younger and younger, aren't you, Babcock?"

CC pushed Ian away, for once thankful for the interruption of the butler. "We were just getting some fresh air."

"Yes, I could tell."

"Niles, I'm almost old enough to be the boy's mother." She addressed Niles, but the comment was for both of them.

Niles shrugged. "To each his own."

"Did you want something?" she growled.

"Yes, I was wondering whether you preferred tuna or ham for the sandwiches."

Ian flicked his eyes briefly to CC before turning his attention on Niles. "Whichever is easier."

With that, he pushed past Niles to go into the house. CC suppressed a shudder and wondered if she should thank Niles for his timing. She decided against it, not wanting him to know how nervous Ian's behaviour had made her.

Instead, she just followed Ian into the house, saying, "You should know what I like by now, Niles. Use your so-called brain."

XXX

"Niles!"

Miss Babcock's angry bellow traveled across the house, and he found himself smiling widely at the sound. It was filled with anger and not fear, and the sound did his old heart good.

He'd finally done it. Since before Hallowe'en, he'd been telling himself he needed to pull a prank on her to help balance out the nightmares. The time had never been right...until now.

Still grinning, Niles grabbed a small towel from the nearest drawer and followed the sound of cursing. When he got to the office, he smirked and leaned against the door frame.

"You rang?"

"Listen, Lurch, this is not funny!"

She was soaked, as was the floor around her. He'd have to clean it, but this was worth it.

Her white silk shirt clung to her chest, allowing a pretty good view of her bra. Her hair was plastered to her head and drops of water, like rain—or tears—dripped down her cheeks and off of her nose.

"If Maxwell were here..." she growled.

"But he's not here, is he, Miss Babcock? It's just you and me and that big old empty bucket."

"Which I'm going to clobber you with in a minute."

Niles couldn't help it, he chuckled. Her jaw tightened, so he held out the towel. She snatched it from his hand, calling him a name he'd never repeat, even in rough company.

"What?" he asked. "I wanted to see if you'd melt."

The look she gave him as she picked up the bucket told him to run. He didn't argue.

XXX

Somehow, she was still alive.

As Niles approached, she turned a battered face towards him. Her eyes were full of agony and pleading for mercy. She lay naked on a low table, and her body was filled with cuts that oozed bright red blood. It dripped down her skin to pool on the floor.

"Niles." Her voice was a broken whisper. She coughed and more blood welled up and spilled out over her chin.

"Babcock, what have they done to you?"

He hurried over, trying not to see the way some of her fingers stuck out at strange angles. Bile rose up into his throat, and he had to swallow hard so he wouldn't vomit.

Gently, Niles caressed her face, trying to give her some comfort. Blood coated his hands from a wound in her forehead, but he ignored it.

"Who did this to you? What happened?"

"Hurts," she choked out. "Hurts."

"Lord have mercy," he whispered fervently as tears streamed down his face.

Miss Babcock weakly raised her hand to him, but he didn't dare to take it. He was afraid of causing her more pain.

"I've got to get help. You need a doctor."

"No," she protested. "Too...too...late..."

Niles couldn't accept that. He looked into her eyes to argue, but didn't have a chance. The light drained out of them, and she went still.

XXX

Tuesday afternoon, CC was at her penthouse rushing to get ready to go back to work. She had worked in the office for the morning, planning the backer's party, but she intended on spending the afternoon cementing the theatre for the two weeks before Christmas.

As she gathered the things she'd need, she shoved them into her briefcase. Chester followed behind her, occasionally getting tangled in her feet.

"Tammy will be here to walk you at two, now get out from under my feet, you miserable mutt," she told him for the forth time. For the forth time, he didn't listen.

She was contemplating dropping him off at the pound when her doorbell rang. CC moved Chester out of the way with her foot, grumbling in frustration. Gritting her teeth and plastering a smile on her face, she threw open the door, prepared to give her visitor a piece of her mind.

Her words caught in her throat as she saw Ian Woon standing there. He was wearing jeans and a Yale pullover that was too large for his slight frame. It should have made him look young and awkward, but he didn't. That was mostly because the expression on his face aged him. It was solemn and...hungry. CC swallowed, butterflies taking flight in her stomach.

"Ian, what are you doing here?"

His eyes were cold as he said, "I came to see you. May I come in?"

"I'm in a hurry..."

"This will just take a moment."

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly, moving out of his way.

He gave her a pleased little half smile as he brushed by her. CC shut the door behind him, wondering if she'd have to defend herself.

When Chester saw Ian, he started to bark. It was a high pitched, frightened bark, and it went on and on and on.

"Can't you shut that mutt up?" 

"I'm sorry. He doesn't like strange men."

"Put him in another room, would you?" he asked, running his hand up her arm. Goosebumps followed the feeling of his skin on hers. "I need to talk to you, and your dog is distracting."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Ian."

He moved closer. "Why? Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not," she scoffed, moving away.

"You should be."

"What?"

He grabbed her arm roughly, throwing her against the wall. CC hit so hard that she saw stars. Ian's body was suddenly against hers, and his hand was clutching her neck.

"I like to give pain," he said, panting with effort as she struggled to free herself.

Absently, CC could hear Chester barking. It was frantic and shrill.

She tried to bring her knee up, but Woon was too close. He was strong, stronger than a skinny, half grown boy should be.

"Ow!" he said suddenly, kicking out his leg and releasing her. There was a yelp as Chester tumbled away. CC was glad to see him spring to his feet, unhurt.

She took Woon's moment of inattention as an opportunity to throw her body at him. She hit him solidly, and he stumbled. Grabbing a nearby lamp, she swung it at his head. Woon ducked and the lamp clipped his shoulder.

"Fight all you want, CC. When I leave here, you'll still be dead."

His eyes had darkened, and she saw madness there.

"Run, Chester," she cried, turning to flee.

He was quick, too quick. Arms like steel bands wrapped around her. CC screamed, jamming her elbow into his ribs. He gasped but held on, his arms tightening until she could barely breathe.

"How's it feel?" he hissed into her ear. "Knowing that I'm going to squeeze the life out of you? You'll hear your ribs crack and break as you're slowly crushed to death. It will be glorious agony."

She tried to curse him but couldn't get enough air in her lungs.

Desperately, she kicked back with her feet. He grunted from pain, but the relentless pressure of his arms didn't loosen. Little black spots appeared in her vision, so she flailed around, trying to free herself. She wasn't going down without a fight.


	9. Chapter 9

Niles waited impatiently as the elevator made its way up to the fifteenth floor. He tapped his foot and fiddled with the small leather case in his hands.

Leave it to Miss Babcock to forget the company chequebook, he grumped to himself. He had a million things to do, but he was running across town to deliver the cheques instead. She was going to owe him big for this, and he'd make sure she knew it.

As he got off the elevator into the small private foyer outside of her apartment, he hoped he hadn't missed her. If he had, he'd have to follow her to the theatre. Then she'd really have to pay.

He noticed the flowers in front of the elevator were fresh and wondered whose job it was to change them. It seemed like a lot of effort for one woman who was never home and who hated flowers.

Niles reached out to touch a petal but was briefly frozen by a shrill scream. His blood turned to ice at the sound.

Spurred on by fear, he hurried to the door. His hand was shaking as he turned the knob and pushed his way into the penthouse.

He was shocked to see Miss Babcock in the arms of Ian Woon. They were back to front in what would normally be considered a lovers' embrace. Her expression was frantic and desperate; his was triumphant and cold.

When Chester saw Niles, he sprang out from under the couch and started barking.

"What's going on?" Niles asked.

"Go home, butler," Woon growled, his voice full of ice. "I have something I need to do here."

Miss Babcock scratched her nails up Woon's arm, leaving four long, deep welts. Blood oozed out of them, and Niles stared at it in fascination.

"Niles, help me," Miss Babcock choked out when Woon reacted to his wounds.

Her voice broke Niles out of his stupor, and he moved forward, rushing the pair. To protect himself, Woon had to free Miss Babcock, and he did so by roughly throwing her to the floor.

Niles only had time to see her jump up with her eyes blazing before his body hit Woon's. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, with Niles on top.

The kid was strong. Niles realized this when he got a fist to his face. It was hard enough to split his lip and turn his left cheek numb. Niles, barely able to stay upright, shook his head to clear it.

They struggled, and Woon bucked his body, this time able to dislodge Niles. He straddled Niles's waist, punching him again.

Niles's head rang with the blow, and his eyes watered. He fought for consciousness, holding on to Woon by his belt loops so he couldn't get up.

Absently, Niles heard Miss Babcock scream again. This time, it was full of rage. It was followed by a thump he both heard and felt in his body before Woon's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed on top of Niles.

Niles pushed Woon onto the floor, breathing heavily. By the time he was in a seated position, Miss Babcock was already on the phone dialing 911. Her face was devoid of color and her eyes were large and round and almost entirely black.

He hauled himself to his feet as she hung up. Her breathing was starting to come in ragged gasps, and he was afraid she'd pass out.

"The...little...bastard..." she managed to force out.

"Miss Babcock, are you all right? What happened?"

"He...I..."

Niles took her arm and helped her to the couch. Together they sat. For some reason, he kept on holding her, but she didn't seem to mind.

After several seconds, she focused on him. "Niles, your face is bleeding."

"What do you expect? He hit me."

"He tried to strangle me. I think I'll have a few bruises." She sounded calm—maybe a little too calm.

"Are you hurt?"

"What?"

"Did he hurt you?" He had to fight to keep from yelling and shaking her.

She shook her head. "Not badly...Where's Chester? He kicked Chester."

At his name, the little dog came running over and jumped in CC's lap. She patted him absently, her eyes on the unconscious boy on the floor.

"He said he was going to kill me, Niles."

XXX

Ian woke when the authorities got there. As he sat up, they drew their guns and surrounded him. The boy's eyes grew huge and he began to tremble.

"What...what's going on?" he stuttered.

One of the officers came forward and forced him to his feet. Ian looked bewildered as he was read his Rights. Beseechingly, he looked at CC, as if he expected her to interfere.

"Please..." he said haltingly, "Please, can I call my mom?"

"You can call her after we take you in," he was told gruffly.

CC watched the expressions going over his face from a safe distance. She was sitting on the couch, allowing herself to be looked over by a paramedic.

"My...my head hurts. What's happened? What am I doing here?"

"Please take your Right to remain silent, kid," the police officer sighed. "You can discuss all of this with your lawyer."

His eyes sought CC out, and he asked, "Miss Babcock?"

"I think I hit him too hard," she commented to Niles as he settled down beside her and the paramedic got up and walked away. The butler had been sticking fairly close to her side and, if she didn't know better, she'd almost think he was worried about her.

"That might be," he agreed as the police dragged Woon out of the penthouse. After a pause, he continued, "I think you and Chester should stay at the townhouse tonight."

"Why? We'll be perfectly safe now that Woon..." She trailed off.

"What is it?"

"What am I going to tell Maxwell?" She groaned and slumped back, sending a jolt of pain through her ribs.

"I can't see how he could blame this on you," Niles told her, his tone almost kind.

"Everything's always my fault, haven't you ever noticed?"

"Not when it's mine," he said dryly.

"Talk to me when he's still erroneously blaming you after twenty years for his passing on Cats."

Niles chuckled and patted her hand.

Suddenly, CC felt exhausted. Even though it was only three in the afternoon, she felt as if days had gone by since that morning. Both her throat and her ribs hurt, and she knew she was lucky nothing had been broken. She hated to think what would have happened if Niles hadn't shown up. CC had dealt with her share of both violent and sexually intimidating men. She knew how to take care of herself; she'd taken several self defense classes. There'd been something different about Ian. He was stronger than any man she'd ever had to deal with.

She knew she should thank Niles for interfering, but instead she asked, "What were you doing here, anyway, Rochester?"

He pointed to the case he'd dropped in his scuffle with Ian. "You forgot the chequebook. Mr. Sheffield was afraid you wouldn't be able to secure the theatre without it."

"It's a good thing I did, I guess." That was as close to a thank you as she was willing to give.

Leaning back, she sighed and closed her eyes. She could feel Niles watching her but refused to acknowledge it.

"Pack a bag and get Chester," he said quietly, "and I'll take you home."

"I am home, Niles."

"I don't think you should be alone."

"What do you care?"

His voice hardened. "Stop being so stubborn, woman."

She opened one eye. "Woman?"

He scowled. "Slip of the tongue."

Some of the tension left her body, but she still felt too tired to move. "If I agree to come with you, will you feed me and draw me a bath?"

"I'll consider it."

CC weighed that against staying alone in a quiet apartment where she had been assaulted.

"All right, Butler Boy. You win."

XXX

"I can't believe this is happening," Maxwell said, pacing between the desk and the couch.

"I'm fine, though, Maxwell. Thanks for asking." She couldn't help the hint of sarcasm that crept into her tone.

"What were you thinking, letting him into your home?"

"Well, I wasn't thinking that he'd try to kill me. That's for sure."

At least Maxwell had the decency to wait until morning to grill her on what happened. When she'd stumbled in the day before, he'd taken one look at her and ordered her to bed. For someone as oblivious as he was, it spoke volumes about the way she looked.

Not that a day had made any difference. A large purple bruise marred her neck in the shape of Ian's hand. It was there for anyone to see. Her chest, ribs, and stomach also held dark bruises, and she was so sore, it hurt to move.

Maxwell ran a hand down his face in despair. "What am I going to do, CC?"

"You could put on the show anyway. Maybe the publicity will be good for us."

He just shook his head. "What did you do to enrage him?"

"Contrary to popular opinion, Maxwell, talking to me does not usually incite people to violence."

"But you must have done something. He seemed like such a nice boy."

"Don't be angry with me, Maxwell. The kid just snapped. Asking why isn't going to change anything."

"You did do something, didn't you?"

Niles came through at that moment carrying a tray. "Tea?"

"Your timing is terrible, as usual, Niles," Maxwell told him, leaning against the desk and rubbing his temple with his hand.

"Why is that, sir?"

"Maxwell was just trying to figure out what I'd done that was bad enough to drive Ian to try to kill me," CC said icily.

Usually, she put up with Maxwell and his silly notions because she liked him and because she had dreams of someday living in his house as his wife, but today she just couldn't put forth the effort. Despite what Maxwell thought, people didn't try to kill her every day, and the whole thing had shaken her.

"Who wouldn't be driven to violence, listening to you?" Niles quipped.

CC's jaw clenched. He glanced at her and winked before setting the tray down on the desk. The wink loosened the knot that had been forming in her stomach since Maxwell started questioning her.

Niles made her tea first. He rarely served her before Maxwell, and she lifted an eyebrow curiously as he handed her her cup.

"How are you feeling this morning, Miss Babcock?" he asked politely.

"I'm fine," she said, taking the tea. "How about you? I see the swelling's gone down some."

CC wasn't the only one with visible marks from their scuffle. Niles's lip was split and slightly swollen, and there was a faint bruise on his cheekbone.

"It only hurts when I smile," he said, smiling at her anyway.

"Please stop your chattering," Maxwell told them sharply. "I have to figure out what to do."

CC sighed. "You have two choices, Maxwell. Either produce the play or choose something else. Pick one, and let's get started."

"It's not quite that easy. There will be consequences either way."

"We can't do anything until you decide. I may as well go home."

CC knew she was pushing it. She wasn't usually quite so blunt with Maxwell, but her patience was getting thinner by the moment. She hurt, she had a headache, and every time her mind wandered, she saw images of Woon's face as he attacked her.

Maxwell just looked at her.

"Forgive me, Maxwell. I hurt all over and it's making me irritable," she told him, taking a sip of her tea. It was just the right temperature and tasted delicious.

His eyes dropped to her neck. He stared at it without speaking for so long that she wondered what he was thinking. Finally, his gaze softened, and he asked, "Why didn't you take the day off?"

She shrugged. "The show must go on, right?"

He cleared his throat. "Yes...Well...What do you suggest we do?"

"You're asking me?"

He nodded, accepting his own cup of tea from Niles.

"If you think we can make a killing with it, I say go for it. Woon's signed the papers. It's all ours."

"But was he in sound mind?"

"If his family wants to fight us, they will. There's nothing we can do."

"I suppose you're right. I do want to think about this first. You may as well go upstairs and rest. Don't bother coming to work until tomorrow."

"Are you sure, Maxwell? What if you need me?"

"He won't," Niles said, plucking the teacup out of her hand.

"Hey, I was drinking that!"

A hint of amusement came to Maxwell's face. "Niles, take CC upstairs, would you, old man? See to it that she gets some rest."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not a child," CC protested.

"Of course not," Niles said, his eyes twinkling as he took her arm. "Now, come along, dear, it's time for your nap."

CC put on a show of stubbornness, but it was all fake. She was so tired and so sore that curling back under the covers sounded like Heaven. Still, she couldn't let the men in her life have their own way without a fight.

XXX

Randall Babcock listened to the voices outside his room. There was joy and laughter, sorrow and pain. Usually at that time of the afternoon, he'd be out there with them.

Today wasn't any other day, though. He looked furtively around the room, feeling the skin crawl along the back of his neck as if he were being watched.

He had to hurry.

There was a notepad and a pen inside his old trunk. In fact, there was probably an envelope in there too. Even yellowed with age, it would still be able to perform the function he needed of it.

Randall's hands shook as he took out the items and sat at his desk. He didn't have much longer, and every second he took could mean his granddaughter's death. He wrote:

My Dearest Chastity-Claire,

You are by far the strongest and bravest of all my grandchildren. I'm a man of few words, so I've never told you how proud I am of you. You have a fierceness of spirit not found often these days and, though I saw you seldom, I tried o help it blaze and grow when I could.

I'm writing this because I need to warn you before it's too late. It's here with me now, I can feel it. I can feel it watching me, and I know that soon I will be dead. This thing, it's made of a darkness so deep that it gets inside your mind and destroys you from the inside, and it's coming for me. It wants me dead because I'm the only one that knows what's going on. Once it gets rid of me, it will come after you because you are the only one who can defeat it. And because it needs you.

I can't explain what it is; there's just not enough time. Please, read my father's journal. You need it; it will protect you from the dark.

In a way, I'm glad it's you. You've always been my fierce warrior girl, even when you thought yourself just a shy, mousy child with no voice. I knew then what you could be, and I've never been disappointed. I can't imagine what would happen if Diane Dorothy or Noel had to fight the shadow.

Be safe, Chastity-Claire and, most of all, don't let it win.

One last thing before I face my own death. Trust only those you know care for you. Until this nightmare is over, trust no one else. If you do, you will die.

I love you,

Grandfather

Randall lay his pen down and carefully folded the piece of paper. Sadly, he placed it in the envelope and sealed it before writing "Chastity-Claire" on the outside. He was ashamed at how the shaking in his hand twisted the letters, but there was nothing he could do about it.

The feeling of being watched had disappeared, and he knew that it was time. Hurrying over to his bed, he shoved the letter under his pillow, knowing that they'd find it when they stripped the bed.

Satisfied and exhausted, Randall lay down. He took comfort knowing that his letter to Chastity-Claire was safe under his head.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard the door open. Without looking, he knew who it was. He shivered as his arms bloomed with goosebumps.

Sitting up quickly, he stared at the woman who entered. She was a short, plump woman with a pleasant face and kind eyes. Usually. Today, her expression was solemn and her eyes were cold.

"Hello, Randall," she said cheerfully before turning to close the door. 


	10. Chapter 10

"You're more than welcome to spend another night, CC," Maxwell said as she put down her suitcase and went to the coat closet.

He was a lot more pleasant since he had settled down and decided what to do about the play.

"That's not necessary, Maxwell," she told him. "I'll be perfectly fine in my own apartment."

"I don't think you should be alone after such a traumatic event."

"Nonsense. I've known Niles for fifteen years. If that hasn't traumatized me, nothing will."

"Well, if you're sure."

"Miss Babcock," Niles said, entering the room holding the phone, "the phone is for you."

"For me?"

"Yes, it's your father."

"My father? Again?"

"He says it's important."

"Okay."

Hanging her jacket over the newel post, she took the phone from Niles. "Hello, Father."

"Hello, kitten. How are you?"

"I'm fine," she told him, wondering if he'd heard about the attack.

Niles was watching her, studying her face, so she turned her back on him.

"That's good," her father was saying. "Listen, I have some bad news."

"Are you all right?" Her stomach lurched.

"I'm fine, CC. It's your grandfather. He died a couple of hours ago."

"Randall's dead? But I just saw him."

"He was an old man. They told me he went to take a nap after lunch and died peacefully in his sleep."

CC found that the news saddened her. Most of the memories she had of Randall were good ones, and he had never tried to force her into a mold like the rest of the family.

"There's more," he continued.

"Yes?"

"He left you a letter. They found it in his things, and they were wondering if you'd come get it, either today or tomorrow."

She felt like hell, and all she wanted to do was curl up on her couch with Chester and either read or watch TV.

"I can't drive all the way out there, Daddy. I just..."

Niles interrupted, "I'll drive you." 

"What?"

"If you have to go somewhere tonight because of your grandfather, I'll drive you."

CC was stunned. "It's an hour out of the city."

"Let the butler drive you, kitten," her father said.

"But..."

Niles took the phone out of her hand. "Hello, Mr. Babcock?...Yes, this is Niles...Yes...Yes, I will." He smiled slightly. "Of course not, sir...Yes. I'll take care of it."

He hung up and regarded CC solemnly.

"Niles, you didn't have to..."

"Shut up and get your coat. We're going for a drive."

XXX

Niles watched Miss Babcock in concern through the rear view mirror. She sat in the back seat, her face calm, her eyes far away.

The bruise on her neck was dark purple and black, and it stood out starkly against her pale skin. Every time he saw it, he was back there, in the foyer outside of her penthouse, hearing her scream. It had sounded so much like the one in his dreams that Niles expected her to be dead when he burst in the door.

He hated to think what would have happened if she hadn't forgotten the chequebook—if he would have been just a half an hour later.

It made him not want to leave her side. The feeling was strange, but he was slowly starting to realize that it came from a place of actual caring. The knowledge was scary, but he couldn't deny its truth. Despite his insults, jests, and sometimes even downright bullying,his life would be empty without her.

"We're here, Miss Babcock," he told her as he pulled into the driveway of the impressive mansion.

Her face became animated as her mind came back from wherever it had been for the last hour.

Niles shut off the car and got out to open her door. Though it was dark, the parking lot was well lit and nearly full.

"I'll just be a few minutes," she told him, getting out.

"I think I'll come in with you, if you don't mind." When she frowned at him, he added, "I need to stretch my legs.

"Oh. Okay."

Miss Babcock seemed reluctant and nervous as they approached the door. She wrung her hands and slowed her steps the closer they got. Niles pretended not to notice.

As they went inside, he was impressed at the opulence. He openly gawked as they went to the desk and Miss Babcock started talking to a slim, dark haired nurse.

"Do you want his things?" the nurse asked.

"No, my father will send someone for those. I've come about a letter."

"A letter? Let me check."

She got up and went to a filing cabinet. Miss Babcock watched the nurse in silence, her back tense and rigid. Niles wondered if he should say something or do something. Just as he was making up his mind to speak, the nurse came back with a yellowed envelope in her hand.

"May I see some ID, Miss Babcock?"

"What?"

"I can't let anything belonging to Randall go with you without ID."

"Oh." She opened her purse and dug through it for her wallet. After a moment, she fished it out and took out her driver's license. The nurse glanced at it, asked Miss Babcock to sign a release paper, and handed her the letter. Miss Babcock took it without even really looking at it and shoved it in her purse.

"Where is my grandfather now?" she asked.

"They've already taken him. Are you sure you won't be taking the rest of his things?"

She shook her head. "No. Thank you. Come, Niles. Let's go home."

"That's it? We came all the way out here for that?" he grumbled.

He saw a sudden flash of fire in her eyes. "Just shut up and drive, Hazel."

For some reason, he smiled. It wasn't just a little smirk, either. It was a full watt grin, stretching joyfully across his face. All day, Miss Babcock had been acting strangely subdued and fragile. It had been bothering him. Between the attack and her grandfather's death, he was starting to worry about her resiliency.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she did the strangest thing. She smiled back.

"All right, Miss Babcock. Let's get you home." As they left, Niles continued, "I'll leave the light on so you can read your letter."

The easy peace that had settled between them collapsed and she frowned.

"That won't be necessary."

"You are going to read it, aren't you?" He wanted to take the words back as soon as he'd said them.

She stopped and looked at him coldly. "I haven't decided."

"What if it contains something important?" He couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"The only thing important he has to say to me is in his Will," she snapped and hurried to the car.

Niles paused and stared after her before shaking his head and following behind.

XXX

Despite her telling him not to, Niles turned the light on to illuminate the back seat. He seemed to be unimpressed with her and didn't say a word as he pulled out onto the road.

That had been CC's intention. She just wanted Niles to leave her alone. She wasn't used to people being concerned about her, especially him, and it made her uncomfortable.

They had driven for about fifteen minutes when CC's mind turned to the letter. She'd lied to Niles about its importance; she cared more than she wanted to admit.

CC glanced at the back of Niles's head. He was watching the road carefully and not even looking at her. She wondered if he'd watch her if she did take the letter out and read it. She thought she might be okay with that as long as he didn't say anything.

Making up her mind and moving with the decisiveness she was known for, CC opened up her purse and took out the envelope. Looking up, she met Niles's eyes.

"Don't say one word, Niles. Not one word."

He inclined his head, and his attention went back to the road. For some reason, this warmed her, and she felt a little better as she slid her thumb along the seal.

The paper wasn't as yellow as the envelope. It had a ragged edge at the top, showing it had been torn from a notebook, but it was crisp and white. Her grandfather's handwriting was shaky and uneven, but she could read it. A lump came to her throat as she read, 'My dearest Chastity-Claire'. At that moment, she actually felt loved. It was both unfamiliar and overwhelming.

The rest of the letter was not quite so lovely. As she read through it, absorbing both compliments and ravings, she realized that her grandfather had probably been senile. Despite the fact that he'd seemed so lucid when she spoke to him, he believed an evil entity wanted to murder the both of them.

She should have been angry that the letter was full of nonsense. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be, not when it was also full of so much love.

XXX

"Please, please, no..."

Niles followed the sound of pleading sobs down a long, narrow corridor. Dim lamps on the wall gave off small halos of light, but it wasn't enough to dispel the gloom.

It seemed as if he'd been following Miss Babcock's voice for hours. She'd been pleading over and over for someone not to hurt her. Her fear was so tangible, he could feel it against his skin.

Suddenly, in front of him, the corridor ended. There was a room with an open door and light spilled out of it, light so bright it hurt his eyes. A cry of pain came through the door, setting Niles in motion. He ran towards the light as another cry followed the first. The cry became a scream, and it went on and on and on.

"Stop it!" he yelled. "I won't let you hurt her. Not anymore."

A voice came out of the wall surrounding him. Niles was so shocked, he stopped running as it said, "Why do you care if she's hurt? What do you care for her pain? Don't you hurt her every chance you get? Don't you live to see her in pain?"

"It's not like that!" he said defiantly. "I've never physically hurt her. Not purposefully. It was all just a game."

The voice laughed at him. "Is the pain any less real for her?"

"Sometimes I hurt her feelings, but most of the time, she knows...she knows..."

"Knows what, Niles? That you loathe her? That you want her to die?"

His own voice surrounded him: "_I despise you_."; "_Why don't you die and we'll find out?_"; "_Was it as bad for you as it was for me?_"; "_You say it but you don't mean it._" The snippets of past conversations went on relentlessly.

"Stop it!" he cried, putting his hands over his ears. "Most of the time, it wasn't real. It wasn't real!"

His words continued, and the voice kept laughing as Niles started running again towards the door. He was determined to save Miss Babcock, and no distractions could stop him.

When he pushed through into the room, the voices and the laughter stopped. Niles gasped for air with his hands on his knees. He drew in great gulps of it, forcing his lungs to breathe.

Nearby, he saw Miss Babcock. She was battered and bloody, but she was still alive. Her clothes were ripped and stained, and her skin was mottled with bruises.

"Niles," she said shakily.

Straightening, he saw two men standing near her. The young one, he knew. Scrawny with blond hair that flopped down over his eyes, he was unmistakably Ian Woon. Woon was wearing blue gloves on his hands and they dripped with fresh blood.

Beside him was a man probably Niles's age or older. It was hard to tell with the mat of hair that covered both his head and face. He had a hawk-like nose and faded and holey green sweats. He was holding a knife.

When Woon saw Niles, he smiled and said, "Hello, Niles. You're just in time."

"Don't let them hurt me!" Miss Babcock said desperately as the older man handed Woon the knife.

"I won't." Niles took a step forward...and woke up.

He was lying on the floor, tangled in his blankets. Sweat dampened his forehead, and his stomach churned. He fought against the blankets, determined to get away from them before he threw up.

This time, there'd been voices and there'd been faces. Up until now, the only other person he'd seen and heard had been Miss Babcock. Also, this was the first time the nightmare hadn't killed her. She'd been severely hurt but alive and determined to remain so. The horror of the nightmare faded somewhat at that memory.

Finally able to fight his way free of the sheets, Niles looked at his clock. It was still only three a.m. He wondered briefly if he should curl up into his bed and go back to sleep for another three hours. He also toyed with the thought of calling Miss Babcock. It would both annoy her and reassure him. Imagining her sleepy and cranky amused him. In the end, though, he decided not to. At that time of the morning, his real feelings were too close to the surface, and he was afraid he'd never be able to keep them hidden.

Swallowing bile, he stumbled to the bathroom, deciding that he needed a shower to wash the dream off of his skin.

XXX

CC lay awake, staring at the ceiling. It was three in the morning, and she'd been lying there for hours. She couldn't get her grandfather's letter out of her head. She knew it was mostly ridiculous, but his words were haunting her all the same.

She didn't know which was worse, discovering after all this time that her grandfather had loved her so much or the fact that he thought something evil was coming to murder her. Both thoughts were disturbing and enough to interrupt what was usually troubled sleep anyway.

Then there was Niles's strange behaviour. He'd been acting strange on and off for weeks. Sometimes, he seemed to almost like her. She was grateful to him for helping her in her fight with Woon and for taking her to get her grandfather's letter. CC didn't like being grateful.

There was something else keeping her awake, something that she didn't like thinking about. Ian Woon. CC prided herself on taking things that bothered her or hurt her and shoving them down deep where she couldn't see them. It was disconcerting that every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ian Woon's face and felt his fingers squeezing her larynx.

Her hand went up and touched her throat as this thought went through her mind. It was still tender. She stroked it gently, hating that he had marked her.

Finally, she let out a groan and forced herself into a sitting position. Chester raised his head to look at her, so she assured him, "I'm all right. Go back to sleep."

Her little dog had been sticking fairly close to her since the attack. She still hadn't figured out if it was so he could protect her or so she could protect him.

At her gentle words, he lay his head back on his paws, sighed, and closed his eyes.

CC got up and turned on the light. She studied herself in the mirror, frowning a the black circles under her eyes.

Feeling crabby and vindictive, she decided that it wasn't fair that she was the only one not able to sleep. She wanted Niles to be as awake and miserable as she was.

At least, this was what she told herself as she went out into the living room and snagged her portable phone. She refused any suggestion from the part of her mind that told her maybe she just wanted to hear his voice.

CC had known Niles's private number for years but she'd rarely used it. She imagined him there sleeping and the ring of the phone jolting him awake.

The phone rang several times before a gruff voice said, "Hello?"

"Niles?"

"Yes. Who is this?" He didn't sound sleepy, but he did sound grumpy. CC was starting to have second thoughts about calling him so late. She was just about to hang up when he spoke again. "Babcock, is that you?"

She swallowed, wondering if she should answer.

"Babs, if that's you, say something. It's too late for me to deal with an obscene phone call."

"Were you sleeping?" she blurted.

"No. I couldn't sleep. If you called to wake me up, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, well. I tried. Night, Niles."

"Wait."

"What? What is it?"

"Is that really why you called?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Why else would I call you, Rochester?" she asked defensively.

"I told you it was too soon for you to go back to your penthouse."

"Nonsense!"

He sighed. "What are you doing up at almost four in the morning?"

"I was working," she lied, settling in on her couch, tucking in her legs.

"Okay." His tone was mildly mocking.

"Did you hear about Ian?" The words came out of her before she even knew she was going to say them.

"Ian?"

"Ian Woon."

"The man who..."

"Tried to kill me. Yes."

"There are so many, it's hard to keep track," he said lightly.

"Niles..."

"Sorry." He even sounded sincere. "What about him?"

"He's saying he doesn't remember being here, in my apartment. None of it. He's telling everyone who will listen that he doesn't remember anything after the Hallowe'en party. I think he's going to plead temporary insanity."

"They might believe him."

CC swallowed before admitting, "I might believe him, too. Did you see his eyes, Niles?"

"I was too busy trying to keep my skin."

She shuddered.

"Do you think someone could try to kill someone and then forget it?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he wasn't just temporarily insane. Maybe he's been insane all along and is just good at hiding it."

"Like you are?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of you."

"Go to sleep, Babs."

"I can't."

"Then let me get some sleep."

"I thought you said you couldn't sleep either."

"Not with you on the phone, I can't, and I have to get up in three hours."

"Maybe we should play hooky."

"Together?" She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Why not?"

"Now I know you're sleep deprived."

She laughed, surprising herself. "All right. I suppose I'll let you sleep."

"We'll meet together for a nap in the library at eleven."

"Do you think Maxwell would notice?"

"Of course not."

"Oh, go back to bed, Butler Boy," she told him, still smiling.

"Ditto."

"All right. Bye."

"Bye."

When CC turned her phone off, she suddenly felt sleepy. Adjusting her position, she stretched out on her stylish but uncomfortable couch. Laying her head on a colorful throw pillow Sylvia Fine had given her and, for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to throw out, CC placed the phone over her belly with her hands folded over top. Two seconds after she closed her eyes, she was fast asleep.

XXX

"Are you listening to me, CC?" Maxwell asked, snapping her out of her light doze.

"Uh...Of course I am, Maxwell. You're talking about going ahead with the backer's party next weekend and about starting the auditions on Tuesday." At least that's what he'd been talking about when she fell asleep.

"Well?"

"Almost everything has been done for the backer's party. Everyone's clambering for invites, so it should be successful." She didn't add that the writer trying to kill one of the producers seemed to be the cause. "As for the auditions, the advertisements went out today, remember?"

"But do you think we're ready?"

"Yes."

"But this one feels different."

"It'll be fine, Maxwell," she soothed.

"I wish I could be so certain."

"Mr. Sheffield?" there was a brief knock before the nanny popped into the room.

"Yes, Miss Fine?" Maxwell looked happy to see her. He usually did.

"I was just wondering about this weekend. Are you still planning on taking the kids to the museum?"

"As long as nothing comes up," he told her agreeably.

Nanny Fine noticed CC sitting in her usual spot and said, "Oh, hi, Miss Babcock."

"Nanny Fine."

"I didn't think you'd be here today."

"Why on earth not?"

"Your grandfather..."

"He's dead, Nanny Fine. It's not like I can revive him, and his funeral isn't until Saturday."

"But don't you feel sad?"

"Of course not," she lied. "I didn't know him very well, and I haven't seen him in years."

"Oh." The look Nanny Fine gave her was full of pity. CC didn't like it.

"Is there a reason you're still here?" she snapped.

"Geesh. Somebody's cranky today."

CC tried to smile but it felt more like a baring of teeth. "Listen, Nanny Fine, it's been a hard week. I've been attacked and my grandfather died..."

"But you said..."

CC raised her hand. "Please, just spare me. You know what? Never mind. I'm going in the kitchen for some coffee. I'll be there if you need me."

"Wait."

"What is it now?"

"Are you okay? Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine. I just need some coffee."

Not wanting to hear any more from the nosy nanny, she got to her feet and headed towards the kitchen and sanctuary.


	11. Chapter 11

By the time she was on her way home, CC had a pounding headache. Between work and having to deal with a house full of lunatics, she was on her last nerve. All she wanted was to get back to her penthouse and relax.

When her cab pulled up out front, she hurriedly paid the driver and turned towards the building.

"Mine! You're mine!"

Out of nowhere, a figure lunged at her. CC had an impression of long scraggly hair, a matted beard, and wide, crazy brown eyes. Instinct made her jump to the side. It was the only thing that saved her life.

The man let out a furious cry and lunged at her again. CC was shocked to see he had a knife in his hand.

There was shouting from the direction of her building. As CC dodged another attack, she heard someone running towards her.

"You won't get away from me again," the man growled.

Gathering herself together, CC was prepared when he slashed at her again. Bringing her arm up to block a blow so strong that pain shot through her whole body, she twisted and solidly drove her knee upwards.

Security reached them just as the man doubled over and dropped his knife. The two men in uniform grabbed him, pulling him away.

"Are you all right, Miss Babcock?" one of them asked. She didn't know their names.

Her arm throbbed but she kept the pain from her face. "I've been better."

The ragged man slumped between the two security guards. He was breathing heavily, the air wheezing as it went in and out of his lungs. His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he could hardly hold himself up.

"Do you need medical attention?"

A small crowd had gathered. CC glanced at them before saying, "No. Just take care of it. If you need me, I'll be in my suite."

She pushed through, rubbing her arm. It felt bruised right down to the bone.

"Great. More black and purple to add to my collection," she grumbled.

XXX

There had been two attempts on her life in three days.

CC pondered this as she lay in a scented bubble bath, so relaxed that she was almost asleep. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and she sat up quickly, splashing water over the side of the tub and onto the floor.

What had her grandfather said in his letter? Something wanted her dead? Being hated was nothing new to CC. She knew she was sometimes abrupt and harsh. She had very little empathy and she was sure one or two people had wished her dead over her lifetime. Even so, were two attempts on her life so close together a coincidence? Two men. Different ages. Different stations in life. Could her grandfather have been right?

The rational part of her mind wanted to dismiss his words as the ramblings of an old man, but there was a part of her that was becoming very uncomfortable. She had to read her grandfather's letter again; she had to know exactly what he'd said.

CC stood and let the water out of the tub. Grabbing a small towel, she wrapped it around her head before grabbing a fluffy one to absently dry herself off.

It was nonsense. It had to be.

She winced as she pressed a little too firmly on her ribs. The bruise there proved that someone had definitely wanted her dead.

CC grabbed her robe off of the back of the door and slipped it on, not bothering with anything else. She remembered leaving her grandfather's letter in the living room on the coffee table so she went to get it.

Now that she was out of the hot water, her arm began to throb and ache. There were already traces of the bruises that would come, caused by the jarring clash of bone on bone. She rubbed it absently, thinking that soon she would resemble one of those patchwork quilts that Sara had been so fond of.

The living room had grown dark while she was in the tub, so she snapped on the lamp beside the couch and settled into the cushions to read.

Slowly, she read the letter over twice. It still sounded like senile ramblings, but doubt niggled at CC. After all, sometime in the week since she'd seen her grandfather, he'd written this letter. Now, he was dead. It was probably a coincidence. After all, he was a very old man. CC had probably been lucky he hadn't dropped dead while they were talking. Logic told her he was just a few plums short of a fruit basket. But what if he wasn't? What would it cost her to read the journal?

Folding the letter carefully, CC felt foolish for even considering that her grandfather had been lucid and his words were true. There were probably better things for her to do with her weekend than reading a dusty old journal, and if it mentioned the things her grandfather had talked about in his letter, it probably meant her great grandfather had been insane as well.

The thing was, CC had nothing to lose by reading the journal and her grandfather thought it could save her life.

Making her decision, CC purposefully got to her feet. She was pretty sure she'd tossed the journal on the small bookshelf under the big window in her living room. She went over and searched the shelf. It took her several minutes to find it, and she almost panicked thinking that someone had stolen it. For some reason, the thought chilled her, even though she was determined not to believe.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she found it underneath a copy of Woon's script. The journal looked older than its hundred years, as if it had been through rough times. Flipping open the cover, she saw a handwritten, "John Babcock, 1896."

CC was reluctant to go farther than that. She didn't know if she really wanted to see what her great grandfather had to say a hundred years ago. What if, by turning the page, she changed her life?

Shrugging those thoughts off as unreasonable, CC forced herself to turn the page. With the same determination she used to face all of life's challenges, she began to read.

XXX

Usually, Niles enjoyed the weekend break from Miss Babcock. At least, he told everybody he did, and they believed him. This Saturday, though, he was having a hard time keeping her from his thoughts. With the nightmares and the attack and her grandfather's death, he found that he wanted her in the townhouse where he could keep an eye on her.

He watched Mr. Sheffield dress for Mr. Babcock's funeral, wondering if he should get dressed and go along. He'd known Miss Babcock a long time, and it would be perfectly reasonable for him to go to her grandfather's funeral. In the end, he decided not to, mostly because he didn't know what she'd read into it.

He was aware of her all afternoon, sitting at the funeral, surrounded by family who didn't really know how to care for each other. He wondered how she was coping. Was she sad?

Miss Fine came in while he was sitting on the couch, deep in thought.

"Whatcha doin', Niles?" she asked.

"Huh?" He turned to face her.

"Are you okay?"

"Just resting for a moment. Did Miss Margaret and Miss Grace get to your mother's all right?" The two had gone to stay with Fran's parents for the night.

"Ma was already feeding them cheesecake when I left," Miss Fine said with amusement.

Niles smiled as he slowly hauled himself to his feet. He was supposed to be cleaning, but he didn't have much energy these days.

As if Miss Fine were reading his mind, she said, "Niles, you look horrible. Are you still not sleeping good?"

He shook his head. "It's been so long since I've had a good night's sleep that I've forgotten what it feels like."

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked, coming forward to put the back of her hand against his face. "Is something bothering you? Are you sick?"

"Nightmares," he told her honestly. "I've been having nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

"Nightmares. Almost every night, and sometimes when I'm taking a nap during the day. They're horrifying and relentless and so real that I can't shake them off."

"Maybe you should go see Dr. Miller...or maybe Dr. Bort."

"I've thought about it."

"Come, sit back down. Mr. Sheffield isn't here." She led him to the couch and they sat together. "Do you want to talk about them?"

"Not really."

"Maybe it will help."

How could he tell anyone about his nightmares? They would reveal something he didn't want anyone to know. The expression on Fran's face was so full of compassion that he felt himself weakening. She was his best friend; she wouldn't throw the nightmares in his face.

"Niles?" she prodded.

So, he told her. He opened his mouth and the words came tumbling out, fighting to be heard. The first strange nightmares where it was dark and he could only hear Miss Babcock's distress. The ones where he found her dead and bloody. The ones where she had been hurt so badly that she died just as he reached her. That one unique dream where he had seen her tormentors-and she hadn't died. It all spilled out and, along with it, came the questions, the doubts, the bleeding of dream and reality until he was driven to make sure Miss Babcock was okay.

Fran listened silently, her usually expressive face giving away nothing. When Niles finished, he trailed of, waiting for her reaction.

"You've been having nightmares about Miss Babcock?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"And she always dies?"

"Except once."

"Niles, do you think...?"

He held up his hand to stop the words from coming out of her mouth. "One crisis at a time, please. I'll think about meanings later. For now, I just want the nightmares to stop."

Miss Fine's arm went around his shoulders and gave him a gentle squeeze. "I don't know how to help you, sweetie."

He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Sometimes I think I'm losing my mind."

"Is that why you were so upset when she was attacked?"

"You knew I was upset?"

"You're my best friend. I can tell."

He sighed. "Sometimes all I can think about is her broken body...her staring eyes...the blood..."

"Niles, I'm calling Dr. Miller to make you an appointment on Monday."

"All right. For you, I'll go see a therapist."

"Me, Grace, and Miss Babcock all see one. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I know." He nodded. "Can we keep this between us, Fran?"

She smiled. "You don't want Miss Babcock to find out?"

"Not if I can help it."

"My lips are sealed."

XXX

It took CC all weekend to read the journal. Her grandfather's funeral and reception had taken most of Saturday, but Friday night and all day Sunday had been dedicated to reading it. Memorial Day Monday, which Maxwell had given her off, found her with just a handful of pages left. She felt as if she'd read a long supernatural novel and, now that all the excitement was past, she was reading the epilogue.

It had been a strange tale. Through most of it, CC couldn't help but think it was fiction. After all, there were no such things as witches, not really, and no such thing as evil curses. The whole thing was impossible. It had to be.

But there was a part of her that grudgingly admitted that her great grandfather sounded completely lucid, even if his words were crazy.

The journal had been written for her. Well, not her specifically. More than once, John had mentioned that he was writing for the youngest of his adult direct descendants in 1996. He also encouraged her to write a journal of her own.

He spoke of an evil presence, one that would be searching for her. It was a telepathic being that could take over minds at will, and it had no remorse and enjoyed pain and killing. An inky, shadow-like creature, it was hard to see and impossible to kill, and all it wanted was to kill the youngest adult Babcock so it could take over the body.

If her great grandfather was to be believed, the creature had started out as a Babcock itself. A weak man who had deserted his family to become obsessed with immortality and power. He had antagonized the wrong person, and his wraith-like state was the result. Because of its beginnings, the wraith remained linked to the Babcocks. This prevented it from invading their minds or the minds of those that loved them, but it also made the being require a specific Babcock to break the curse.

It was a fantastic tale. Unbelievable. Or, it would have been if CC hadn't had two attempts on her life in a week.

The worst part of the whole thing, maybe including the phantom assassin, was that, if she wanted to fix things, she'd have to go to a town in Massachusetts that she'd never heard of. She had a feeling that it was in the middle of nowhere.

CC was unsure if she was willing to make the trip, but she knew she had to make up her mind soon. The journal said she only had until the end of the month—if she didn't die first.


	12. Chapter 12

Miss Babcock was acting strangely.

Niles studied her curiously as she came in to get her water. She hadn't said two words to him, and she'd been unusually distracted.

When she was about to leave the room without speaking again, he said, "Someone finally got tired of hearing you talk and put a curse on your tongue?"

"Huh?" She whirled to look at him, her eyes wide, and her hands in front of her protectively.

She looked genuinely scared, so he added, "Easy, girl. Easy."

"Niles?" she asked, her tone saying she wasn't sure of the answer.

"Who else would I be?" He laced his words with sarcasm.

Miss Babcock came forward to peer into his face. She studied it thoroughly, ending with his eyes.

"Say something," she said softly.

"What was I just doing, using hand gestures?"

"Do you want to touch me, Niles?"

"Touch you? Why would I want to touch you? When have I ever wanted to touch you?"

She relaxed slightly and closed her yes, still standing close enough that if he took a really big breath their chests would brush.

"What is wrong with you, Babs? You're acting weird, even for you."

"Nothing," she told him, taking a step back.

That's when he noticed the mottled bruising on her forearm. Before she could get away, he grabbed her by the wrist, straightening her arm to get a better look.

"That's not one of the bruises you got in our fight with Ian Woon."

She snatched her arm back. "How very observant of you, Hazel."

His gaze went up to her throat, where the bruises were finally starting to yellow and fade. Self consciously, her hand followed his eyes.

"What happened?"

"None of your business."

"Tell me."

"Buzz off."

"Who did you annoy this time, Babcock?"

"I'm not talking about this with you," she stated, turning her back on him and marching out of the room.

XXX

When Niles went into the office to dust a few minutes later, he found Mr. Sheffield and Miss Babcock working silently. Miss Babcock had a pen in her hand and a stack of photos in her lap. She studied each face carefully before turning it over to read the resume on the back. In her usual no nonsense style, she put either a check or an x on the top right hand corner before moving on to the next one. These were the actors who'd sent their headshots ahead of time. Niles knew that several more would come that afternoon with their headshots in their hands. It was his job to gather them at the door.

Miss Babcock took a sip of her water and subtly glanced over at Mr. Sheffield. When she did it again a few minutes later, it was obvious there was something on her mind.

It was still several more minute before she put the pictures aside and said, "Maxwell?"

"Hmn?" he asked, looking up from his own stack of headshots.

"I'm going to need the rest of the week off." It was a statement not a question.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I have to take a trip."

"But, CC, our backers' party is Saturday."

"Yes, Maxwell. I know. I'll be back by then. That's why I have to do this now. After today, there won't be anything important to do until after the party, and then we'll be busy until after Christmas. I promised my grandfather I'd do this, so I have to do it."

"A trip?" Niles interrupted without thinking. "Where?"

"Can it, dust buster. It's none of your business," she snapped, her eyes still on Mr. Sheffield.

"I don't know, CC..."

"It's only three days, Maxwell. It's just four contracts and some paperwork. Surely you can handle that on your own."

"Where are you going?" Niles asked again, his hand tightening on his duster. The thought of her leaving the city on her own made him uneasy, though he wasn't sure why.

"Niles," she growled, shooting him a glare, "I don't know what your sudden interest in my life is, but butt out."

"I still haven't said you could go," Maxwell said.

Miss Babcock wrenched her glare from Niles's face to point it at their boss. "Frankly, Maxwell, I don't give a damn." She rubbed her eyes with her fingers, suddenly looking exhausted. "I wasn't asking for permission."

Niles's mouth dropped open. Miss Babcock never spoke like that to Mr. Sheffield. She also never looked quite so defeated. After all of the pranks he had pulled on her, he'd never seen that expression on her face.

"CC!" Mr. Sheffield's shock was almost comical.

Niles couldn't quite bring himself to be amused, however. He was too busy trying to calm the flutter in his belly.

"I'm going with you," he blurted.

He knew how stupid it sounded the moment it left his lips. The two pairs of eyes that turned to him in surprise were even more proof.

"What did you say?" Miss Babcock demanded.

Absurd or not, Niles found that he meant it. He didn't want her out there all alone when his dreams were still telling him she was in terrible danger.

He raised his chin and looked her right in the eye. "I'm going with you."

She started to laugh. It was a dry, brittle sound, and nowhere near the husky chuckle he was used to. "Now, that's rich, Rubber Maid." 

"When did I lose control of this conversation?" Mr. Sheffield asked, sounding somewhat bewildered.

Miss Babcock ignored him as she stared at Niles. Her mirth hadn't reached her eyes.

"Where did you get that bruise on your arm, Babcock?" he demanded.

"I don't want you to come."

"Do you really have to go?" It was obvious that Mr. Sheffield was trying to make the conversation make sense.

She glanced at him. "Yes."

"I suppose it wouldn't do any harm. Niles, stop picking on her and get back to work."

"Yes, sir," he said, wiping his face free of emotion.

He nodded at both of them and left, not saying another word. Babs would find out soon enough that he meant what he'd said; she wasn't going anywhere without him. If she did, the nightmares might just drive him crazy.

XXX

CC checked through her luggage one final time to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Not that she knew what was appropriate to bring for traveling in the middle of nowhere to stop a demented demon. Snorting, she slammed the lid closed and zipped it.

She'd already dropped Chester at the kennel the night before so she didn't have to worry about anyone but herself. As far as she could see, she was as ready as she was going to get. All she had to do was grab an apple for breakfast, and she could be off to Smythton, Massachusetts.

CC dragged her suitcase out into the living area, grateful for its wheels. She left it beside a large, stuffed overnight bag and headed for the kitchen. She hadn't quite reached the fridge when the doorbell rang.

She fished out a red delicious with a frown, wondering who that could be. It was before ten in the morning, and she rarely had visitors. In fact, the last time someone had come to visit her in her home, it had been Ian Woon.

Reluctantly, clutching her apple almost as if it were a weapon, she went to the door. Pressing against it, she looked through the peephole.

Niles! What was he doing there? She studied him carefully through the hole, looking for signs of aggression. As he waited for her, he picked a piece of lint off of his shirt. For some reason, this convinced her and she opened the door.

"What are you doing here, Broom Hilda?" she spat out before the door was even completely open.

He jumped at her sudden demand.

"Well?"

"Good morning to you, too, Miss Babcock."

She snorted. "What do you want?"

"I told you yesterday, I'm coming with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Niles. Why would you want to come with me?"

"I have my reasons."

"Like what, killing me in my sleep?"

This seemed to strike a nerve. His face went white and then very red. Clamping his teeth together, he pushed past her into the room. Despite this display, she let him. She saw none of the cold madness in his eyes that had been present during both of her attacks.

"I don't know what form of torture you have in mind for me," she continued, "but I'm really not in the mood."

"Miss Babcock," he said slowly, facing her, "how did you get that bruise on your arm?"

"Is that what this is about?" she asked incredulously.

His eyes searched hers, and it made her uncomfortable. He didn't say anything, just met her gaze evenly.

"Fine," she said impatiently, turning away when she couldn't stand his scrutiny any longer. "If you want to come with me, I can't stop you. You're driving."

His eyes widened at her immediate reversal. "Uh...Okay...Where are we going?"

"Does it matter?"

"Oddly, yes, if we want to get there and I'm driving."

She couldn't help the little quirk of her lip at his words. Suddenly, she didn't feel so foolish, and she didn't feel so apprehensive. Even though Niles would say they were on a wild goose chase and make pointed remarks about her intelligence, having him with her would actually make her feel more comfortable. Her feelings about the butler were complex, but his presence was always firm and steady. He gave her focus, no matter what was coming out of his mouth.

"Shut up, Niles, and take my bag."

"All right. If I must." He picked up the small overnight bag, leaving the heavy one for her, and headed for the door.

CC just shook her head and smiled to herself as she grabbed the handle of her big suitcase and followed behind.

XXX

CC had opted to sit in the front seat beside Niles instead of by herself in the back. Even though she was probably on a fool's errand, the whole thing felt rather creepy. Now that she was on her way to confront whatever waited for her in Smythton, now that she acknowledged everything might not be coincidental, she was remembering small details. Foremost amongst these was the fact that both Ian Woon and her unknown attacker had the same exact expression on their faces and in their eyes. There was also the complete change in Woon's personality, and the fact that the change seemed to happen on Hallowe'en night. She knew that the dark soul of Jeremiah Babcock, or whatever it was, had between the first and the thirtieth of November to kill her and take over her body. Woon had seemed so sincere in his bewildered innocence that, if she could believe any of it, his not being himself when he tried to kill her would be the easiest part to believe.

Niles hadn't had any reaction to the knowledge that they would be in a car together for over three hours. He actually hadn't said much at all to her, and she wondered if he regretted his rash decision.

She turned her head to study him, running her gaze over his serious face. He was a sensitive man, and she often thought about why he had chosen her to bully all of those years ago. At first, she'd been shocked and hurt, though she hid it well, but over time she'd come to see that most of the time he was only playing with her. She had no idea how much of what he said he actually meant.

She had always liked him. She'd probably never tell him that, even under threat of torture, but it was the truth. Her natural inclination, when she wasn't angry or doing her job, was to withdraw from people and remain cold and aloof so that they couldn't get behind her walls. She was a solitary being. The thing with Niles was that he would never put up with that. He pried and prodded her until she had to come out and either play or defend herself. She was twisted enough that this made her feel less alone.

It suddenly occurred to her that Niles might actually like her as well. She bit her lip as she turned the idea over in her mind. It was possible, she supposed. His strange recent actions could be a sign that Woon's attack was bothering him. Some misguided desire to keep her safe could be his reason for inviting himself along.

Niles glanced at her. "Why are you staring at me?"

She thought about denying his accusation, but instead she countered with, "Why are you here, Niles?"

He scowled at her. "Because you told me to drive you to Smythton, Massachusetts."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Why are you here, Miss Babcock? What's in Smythton? Taking so much time off work is so unlike you. I just want to be there to protect innocent bystanders if you go on a crazy rampage."

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged. "Believe what you like."

"I was attacked again, Niles." CC didn't know why she said it. It just tumbled out.

"The bruise on your arm?"

"Yeah. It was after work on Friday. When I got out of the car, a homeless, smelly person came at me with a knife."

The car made a sudden, violent swerve. CC clutched at the dash.

"Jesus, Niles, will you be careful?"

"Sorry," he said tightly.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Tell me what happened," he told her quietly, his eyes on the road. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Just what I said. I got out of my cab, and I heard someone yell something like, 'I got you this time', and this man lunged at me with a knife..."

"What did he look like?"

"Homeless. Why? What does it matter?"

"I just want to know who to thank when we get back to civilization."

CC rolled her eyes. "He had gray hair and a beard. They were really long and matted. I couldn't really see much of his face because there was so much hair. He was wearing...green, I think, and he stank." She stopped and swallowed hard before adding, "He had cold eyes."

"Go on." His voice sounded thin and wispy.

"As you can see, I managed not to get stabbed—even though he tried a few times. Security came and took him away. That's it."

"And you never thought to mention this before now?"

"Why would I? It's not like anyone cares, anyway."

"No," he agreed. "I guess not." His hands were still gripping the wheel, and he looked almost angry.

"I'm going to Nowheresville because of him."

Niles glanced at her questioningly, his eyes troubled.

She was going to have to tell him sooner or later. "And because of my grandfather. He thought something wanted to kill me. I'm skeptical, but I want to know for sure. His argument was too compelling for me to leave it alone."

"Ian Woon..."

"Not Ian Woon, Niles. Someting else."

"Something?"

So, she told him. She told him about her visit with her grandfather and about his warning. She told him about the letter her grandfather left and how he was afraid he'd be murdered. Lastly, she told him about her great grandfather's journal and the dark, soulless thing that was supposed to be stalking her. She mentioned how the two attacks fit into it and how both men had looked before they attempted to kill her.

Niles didn't say a word throughout her whole story, even though she knew how crazy she sounded. When she finished and still he remained silent, she steeled herself and prodded, "Niles?"

"You're telling me that this evil...uh...thing is trying to kill you and that it keeps taking over different people to do so?"

"That's what my grandfather believed." She couldn't look him in the eye.

"What do you believe?" 

"I don't know!" She settled back into her seat with a huff of frustration. "John and Randall were probably crazy. Hell, I'm probably crazy for almost believing them."

"I don't think you're crazy."

His words weren't what she was expecting. "What?"

"I think we should just get to Smythton and see what your grandfather was talking about."

"Did I hear you right? Did any part of what I said sound sane to you?" She reached out and pressed her hand to his forehead before running it gently down his cheek. "Well, you don't have a fever, Benson. Maybe you're as crazy as I am."


	13. Chapter 13

Smythton, Massachusetts was more village than town. It looked as if it had just fallen off of a Christmas card, and Niles almost expected people to stop and wave as he passed by.

"Well, this is impressive," Miss Babcock grumbled.

He resisted the urge to look at her. She'd been relatively silent since telling him she thought something was trying to kill her. Her story was a fantastic one, and he couldn't fault her for thinking he was faking his willingness to believe.

Just remembering her description of the second man who attacked her made his blood run cold. Niles had dreamed of that man, had seen the knife in his hands. He was sure the man in his nightmare and Miss Babcock's real life assailant were the same person. Their descriptions matched exactly. If he were right, if this was not some delusion on his part, than maybe it was all true. If so, it scared the hell out of him. He only wished he knew what Smythton had to do with everything. Miss Babcock hadn't bothered to tell him.

"It looks quaint," he said mildly.

"Quaint, my ass. Let's find a hotel."

They soon discovered that some sort of craft fair had filled the town. The few places to stay were bursting at the seams, and all of Miss Babcock's raving and money waving made no difference at all. In the end, they managed to find and inn with just one room available, thanks to a last minute cancellation. While Niles was grateful, Miss Babcock didn't seem to feel the same way.

"You've got to be kidding me!" she fumed.

"It's a fairly big room," the woman offered, her pleasant tone never changing.

"Miss Babcock is concerned because we're not a couple," Niles told her calmly.

"There are two beds, if that's what concerns you."

"Two beds?" Miss Babcock asked.

"Yes."

"Fine," she snapped. "We'll take it."

Niles gave the owner an apologetic look as he signed the ledger and took their key.

"All meals are included," the woman told them, "and the bathroom is right across the hall."

"Thank you, Mrs. Comeau."

She nodded. "Supper is at seven."

Miss Babcock left most of their luggage for Niles to carry and snatched the key out of his hand. Without waiting to see if he'd follow, she marched off to find their room.

"She's a spirited one, that one," Mrs. Comeau commented in amusement.

Niles grinned at her in agreement before grabbing the luggage and stumbling behind Miss Babcock. By the time he caught up, she was unlocking their door.

The room was quite pretty. Done in blue and white, its ocean theme made it feel cozy and comforting. The bedspreads were a soft pale shade, while the walls were a bit darker. Along one wall, there was a small bookshelf holding both books and two bottles with sand and shells inside.

"It's quite lovely," Niles commented as he dropped the bags.

Miss Babcock snorted. "It will do."

"I know it's not what you're used to but, for the rest of us, this is luxury."

She shrugged this away, saying, "I'll take the bed furthest from the window."

With a jolt, Niles remembered he'd have to sleep in the room with her. Beside her. He just hoped she wouldn't be sleeping in a sexy silk negligee.

He rubbed his stomach as it suddenly growled, moving past Miss Babcock to pick up a sheet of paper on a small round table.

"Here's the food schedule. It looks as if they're still serving lunch. You hungry?"

She shook her head sharply. "I haven't been hungry for days."

"I'm going down to get something to eat. Are you coming with me?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, well, I'm going."

"Fine." She made a shooing motion.

"When I get back, will you tell me what the hell we're doing here?"

"Don't swear, Rochester. It's vulgar."

Niles made an amused noise. "You do it all the time."

"But I'm not British. Now, go away. I've got to figure out what we do now."

At least she was saying 'we'. Niles had no intention of letting her take off on her own, whether she could take care of herself or not.

For now, he was content to leave her alone to go get something to eat, and he wouldn't be bringing anything back for the stubborn witch, either.

XXX

CC stood staring out of the window. The place she sought was out there somewhere, hiding in amongst the trees. She wondered how hard the path would be to find after all of this time. Would it even be there at all?

She had to admit to herself that she was glad she wasn't doing this alone. Niles might be an annoying windbag, but he was the most capable person she knew.

She remembered their conversation in the car and her surprised conclusion. She wondered if Niles cared enough to be one of those immune to the creature. If so, he was the only one in the whole town that she could trust. Of course, she was basing all of this on what could be an erroneous assumption. CC figured since she'd come all this way, she may as well act as if her grandfathers had been right. The second guessing stopped here. It had to.

CC turned from the window to study the room. It was cozy, she had to admit. She might even find it comfortable if she didn't have to share it with the dust buster.

She grimaced. That was an unforeseen circumstance, but she could work with it. Everything should be over the next day, anyway—one way or another.

As she waited for Niles, she took the journal out again. She read the part about John arriving in Smythton very carefully, wondering if she dared ask that Comeau woman for directions. The woman's eyes had been warm and bland, and CC was pretty sure she'd know if Jeremiah were behind them.

She was still reading when Niles came back in. She looked up to see him standing in front of her holding a sandwich and some salad on a plate.

"Here," he said gruffly. "I didn't want you going on a hungry rampage. Plus, this looks like hunting country. If you lose weight, the locals might mistake you for a deer."

CC looked from his face to the plate and back again.

"Take it," he insisted.

Too tired to argue, she just put the journal beside her on the bed and accepted the food.

As she started to eat, Niles asked, "So, why are we here?"

Wordlessly, she handed him the journal. He frowned, showing puzzlement, but took it. Sitting beside her, he began to read.

XXX

They spent the rest of the day in their room. Miss Babcock had insisted they keep a low profile so that no one knew where they were. She hoped that would prevent the head-hopping shadow from being able to find them too quickly. While Niles read the journal, she flipped through the books on the shelf. Occasionally, she stared out the window.

Niles glanced at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention. Her face was set with stubborn determination, and she moved restlessly. Secretly, he admired her adaptability. Many women, when faced with the fact that their reality had shifted, would have come undone. Most men probably would have, too.

John Babcock's words were so unbelievable that she should still be home telling herself her grandfathers were crazy despite the evidence that was building up to the contrary. Not Miss Babcock. As usual, she was jumping in with both feet.

Niles might have written the whole thing off as a fairy tale if it weren't for his nightmares. Something had been telling him for over a month that Miss Babcock's life was in terrible danger. And then there was the ragged man in his dream. Miss Babcock had described him right down to the clothes he wore. It might be foolish, but he read every word as if it were true. He couldn't help but believe; he probably believed more than she did.

When suppertime came, they both went to the dining room for a hearty meal. It was so nice not having to cook that Niles ate until he was stuffed. Miss Babcock just picked at her food.

Finally, he said, "Miss Babcock, our hosts worked too hard on that for you to play with it that way."

She gave him a dirty look but shoveled some of the food into her mouth. Niles didn't like that she was so complacent.

Afterward, they went back to their room and spent their evening much as they had their afternoon. It was strange to go so long without talking to each other, and Niles stopped reading to make a crack about her every once in awhile to fill the silence.

Strangely enough, it was a comfortable silence. He wondered when they'd gotten so used to each other. When she sat down, it seemed only natural for her to sit beside him, their sides brushing.

Eventually, she said, "Niles, why haven't you said anything?"

"What do you mean? Just five minutes ago, I asked if you were gaining weight."

She elbowed him. "About the journal, you moron. Why haven't you said anything about the journal?"

"You want me to have the gist of this by morning, don't you?"

"Yes, but why aren't you protesting? Don't you think it's crazy?"

"I'm keeping an open mind."

"How can you?" she demanded. "I'm having trouble and it's happening to me. This all could be some humongous coincidence."

He shrugged. "And if it is? You missed a couple of days of work and got to see a small town."

"You're acting, strangely, Benson, and it's scaring me."

"_I'm _acting strangely?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You've stopped insulting me."

"That's not true. I've insulted you three times in the last hour."

"Your heart wasn't in it."

"It's more fun with an audience."

She chuckled. "I always knew you were an attention hog."

"Beats being a barnyard hog."

"Ha!" She poked him in the ribs with her finger. "My old Niles is still in there somewhere. Emphasis on the old."

Niles felt himself grinning. "Hey, I wasn't the one whose last birthday cake burned down a restaurant."

"I knew you'd bring that up to throw in my face. You forgot to mention that it happened because Sylvia Fine knocked over the table trying to get a taste of the frosting while the room was waiting to sing Happy Birthday."

Miss Babcock smiled briefly and patted Niles on the knee before getting to her feet. "It's getting late. I think I'm going to go hop in the shower and get ready for bed."

Niles pretended to continue to read as he watched her take things from her bag. He was glad to see she had a sensible silk two piece to sleep in but wished he hadn't seen the small silk underwear in her hands.

When Miss Babcock left the room, Niles gave up the semblance of reading the journal. He was not going to be able to absorb more of it when his mind was fixated on Miss Babcock across the hall in the shower. His mind painted him a picture against his will. All those years of telling her that a man would never want to touch her when all that time he'd have given anything to do just that.

Since he couldn't concentrate on the journal any longer, Niles started getting ready himself. He decided to have his own shower in the morning so he hurriedly got into his pajamas before Miss Babcock came back.

He needn't have hurried. She was gone for a long time. Niles was just starting to get worried when she came bursting in, looking as regal as a queen, even in royal blue silk pajamas.

She stopped short when she saw him standing there in just his flannel pajama bottoms. Her eyes quickly ran over him, making him feel slightly self conscious.

"What?" he demanded gruffly.

"Not bad for an old man."

He flushed. "Funny. I was going to say the same thing about you."

She rolled her eyes and came the rest of the way in, kicking the door shut behind her. She had her clothes tucked under her arm and her shampoo in her hand, so she went right to her suitcase.

"You'd better not snore, butler boy," she said evenly, as if sharing a room with him felt natural to her.

"I hope not. I wouldn't want to wake the bear."

As he watched her finish getting ready for bed, he tried to deny how much he liked having her so casually in the same room with him. Though her pajamas were very conservative, the silk clung to her curves sinfully. As she moved, it slid over her skin in tantalizing ways, and Niles felt his mouth go dry. He had to turn away.

"I'm going to set the alarm for eight," she told him. "I want to get this over as soon as possible."

"Okay," he agreed, climbing into bed with his back still towards her. He closed his eyes immediately so he wouldn't be tempted to watch her. It didn't keep him from listening.

Soon, the light went out and he heard a quiet, "Good night, Niles."

He didn't answer; he didn't want her to know he wasn't asleep.

XXX

CC jerked awake, her heart racing and her lungs struggling for air. She had no idea what had awakened her, so she lay still in the darkness, listening intently.

Slowly, her breathing evened to normal and she felt herself being lulled back to sleep. A few feet away, Niles stirred restlessly. Closing her eyes, she listened with fond sleepiness.

She was jolted all the way awake again when he sat up suddenly, shouting a distressed, "Miss Babcock!"

He sounded so panicked that CC immediately looked around, searching for foes. Their silent room greeted her.

"Niles?" she asked.

He was breathing heavily and, in the dim light, she could see his hands were clenched.

"Niles?" she repeated.

He turned to look at her. "Miss Babcock?"

"Are you all right? What's wrong?"

He looked lost as he stared at her, his eyes full of confusion and incomprehension. She was wondering whether she should go over and slap him when he finally spoke.

"What are you doing up?" His voice was gruff and scratchy.

"Well, it's pretty hard to sleep when someone's screaming bloody murder."

"What are you talking about?"

"Niles, you just yelled loud enough to wake the whole house."

"Oh," he said, rubbing his face. "It was just a nightmare. Go back to sleep."

"It must have been a pretty bad one."

"Yeah."

"What did I do to you?"

He stiffened. "What?"

"I must have done something awful."

"What makes you think my dream had anything to do with you?"

"It was my name you yelled. Was I torturing you? Did I hurt you?" Curiosity got the better of her.

"Just your being there was torture enough."

"Oh, come on, Beulah. Tell me."

"Wasn't it bad enough I had to live it once?"

"I didn't kill you, did I?"

"I don't want to talk about this with you."

"Don't be like that." When he didn't reply, she huffed. "Dream me was probably justified in what she did. You could drive a sane woman crazy."

"Well, that's definitely not you. Now, can we go back to sleep, please?"

"You go back to sleep. I'm getting up." She flipped off her covers.

"Where are you going?" It was more of a demand than a question.

"Nature calls."

She expected him to say something about finding the perfect tree. Instead, he said, "You can't go out there."

"Well, I'm certainly not going in here."

She got up and started making her way carefully to the door. Niles grumbled to himself and scrambled out of bed.

"Have you forgotten the danger that could be waiting for you?"

"The bathroom's only across the hall."

"In this room, you're safe. Out there, death can come from anyone."

CC folded her arms. "You're right, Niles. It can come from anyone-including you."

"With the amount of time we spend together, if it was going to use me, don't you think it would have by now?"

"There's something else, isn't there?" When he didn't answer, she prodded, "Niles?"

"I just don't think..."

"Out with it. Tell me what's going on."

"The nightmares," he said, turning away.

CC caught his shoulder with her hand. "Nightmares? There's been more than one?"

"Yes."

"How can my hurting you in nightmares lead to you not wanting me to go to the bathroom? Wouldn't they make you push me out the door instead?"

"They're complicated."

"Complicated how? Dammit, tell me, Niles, or I swear I'll go out there and knock on every door to see if someone tries to kill me."

He sighed, settling onto his bed. She sat beside him, her shoulder lightly pressed to his.

When the silence stretched too long, she asked, "So what do I do that is so terrible in these dreams of yours?"

He whispered something inaudible.

"What?"

"You die."

"I...I die?" CC still wasn't sure she heard right.

Niles nodded. "Over and over and over again. Almost every night for the last six weeks." He sounded so tired.

CC didn't know what to say. Since he seemed to actually care about her, it made sense that he might have a nightmare after the attack or even tonight after reading most of her great grandfather's journal, but why would he have them so frequently since around the first of October?

After a few minutes of silence, she asked quietly, "Are they bad?"

Niles shuddered. "The worst I've ever had. They're so..."

"So what?"

She could practically hear him searching his mind for the right word. Eventually, he said, "Real."

"How do I die?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's just a dream, Niles."

He looked at her. "Is it? I don't know anymore."

"Is that why you've been hovering lately? Why you wouldn't let me come here alone?"

His face was full of shadows in the dim light from the window. CC wished she could read his expression better and regretted not turning on the light.

"You may be a pest, but you're my pest," he admitted.

"Do you think the dreams are related to..." She trailed off and waved her hand, trying to encompass everything that was happening to her.

"I'm almost positive they are."

"There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

"I dreamed him."

"You dreamed who?"

"The man who attacked you on the street. He was in one of my dreams. You described him perfectly. He..." Niles stopped talking. "It doesn't matter."

CC regarded him with disbelief. "Niles, you sound as crazy as I do."

"Yet here we are."

"I guess so, but I want to be out there. I really have to pee."

"Then I'm coming with you."

She jumped to her feet. "You most certainly are not."

"Don't worry, Babs. I'll wait outside in the hallway."

"You're being silly."

"Shut up and go." He gave her a gentle push. "I'm not cleaning the room if you lift your leg on one of the beds."

"Niles, that was bad, even for you," she said, opening the door.

The bickering continued until they were back in their room, tucked in for the rest of the night.


End file.
